Untitled
by Modesta Dolore
Summary: Previously Merces Mercedis: Shadows Trilogy Sequel. Thanks Resmiranda.
1. Chapter One

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Disclaimer (Applies to all chapters.): Anything in the fan fiction pertaining to any canon Harry Potter material does not belong to me. It belongs to JK Rowling. Go buy the books. The rights to the Shadow Trilogy belong to Resmiranda, (Read the first part of her trilogy here, http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=743832 ) It's a great fan fiction done by an extremely talented writer. This story belongs, and is dedicated to her for providing me with such a great story. Everyone say thanks. As this is my first ever fic at ff.net, I would love reviews. Any constructive criticism you could offer me would be greatly appreciated! I would also love a beta reader, and maybe a few people to toss plot ideas around with. I am a decent writer, but when I get caught up in a story, my plot often risks going to muck. It would really help to share ideas with people, and discuss the direction in which the story should take! It would be preferable if you have read the entire Shadows Trilogy, (but then again why be in here if you haven't?). Anywho, please enjoy and remember not to expect fireworks!

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Merces Mercedis

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Recompense 

Coming down the world turned over,

Angels fall without you there.

I go on as you get colder.

I'll go on to bring you home,

And I'll become,

What you became to me.

-**GGD, John Rzeznik**

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September 1 (The Journal of Severus Snape)

It's amazing how fast time goes by when you can't see a calendar. I used to charm my calendars, and my watch to know the date and time, but now its second nature. I can almost exactly tell the time of day by relating to smells of cooking meals. The days of the week are disgustingly easy. All I have to do is refer to my classes. Monday, advanced (and I use the term loosely) Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Tuesday, Ravenclaw. Wednesday, Hufflepuff. Thursday, advanced Slytherin and Gryffindor. Friday, Double Runes with Gryffindor and Slytherin. 

It's nice to know that not even the defeat of the Dark Lord could quench the eager hatred between these two houses, not to mention my sufferance in teaching them. Ungodly sufferance. I almost regret to admit that I praise Merlin every day I can have the unfortunate privilege. But I always do. I don't know what I would do without these wretched classes to teach. Besides my garden, they are all that I can do. Even my garden will have to wait though, when winter arrives. I dare not dabble in Arithmacy again, not, of course for fear of the Dark Lord, but for fear that I once again might become dependent upon my reflexes of the future. Yes, I feel more secure knowing only the present. 

Following another thread, I recently received a letter of invitation to the marriage of Ron Weasley, to some woman I haven't yet the privilege of meeting. Though I am thoroughly giddy at the idea of attending a wedding to converse with the happy friends of the Wealsey family, I fear I would find it too depressing. Any woman unlucky enough to marry such a doddering young man is likely to suffer crippling emotional damage in the future. Best for her to have a few rapturous days of newlywed bliss without a shadow hanging in the background. No doubt that I would scare her. Yet, Severus, who are you to talk? You are the epitome of severe emotional fallout. But according to Dumbledore, I'm looking and acting friendlier every day. I'm sure by next week I will be "positively glowing!" I should be sure to hand out a few detentions this week. I don't want to be softening around the edges. 

It's now been almost a year since I last had a decent letter from Miss Granger. I suppose she is busy with the University and such during the year, seeing as the advanced Transfiguration she is now doing is extraordinarily difficult. But during this last summer, she only sent me two letters, each consisting of little more than a paragraph each. Not that I care so much, I just wonder what she has been doing for so long.

I supposed she has forgotten about me.

A young woman sat at her desk writng fervently, as her quill suddenly stopped mid-random movement and fell from her hands. She let out a small windy cry. Placing her elbows on the desk surface, her head rested on the heels of her hands. Her small office was dark except for the light of a tabletop lamp illuminating the papers before her and the blue shimmer of conjured flames beneath a floating cauldron. The stark white walls of the office were barely visible behind the many towering shelves and cabinets that lined them, all covered with neatly labeled jars, bottles, and flasks; and books stacked by categories and sub categories. 

Various sketches covered what little space wasn't taken on the walls by the shelves. Some were complex diagrams of various stages of transfiguration, or formulas for potions in all stages of invention, not yet familiar even to the trained eye. One sketch that didn't seem to belong on the wall was that of a man, and hung directly over the girl's desk. A rough charcoal drawing, in which the man's long hair framed the man's square jaw like various wisps of smoke. It would have been a beautiful drawing, except for the fact that where the man's eyes should have been, there were minutely printed formulas, numbers, and puzzles of words. The girl raised her head to rest her chin on her hands to look at this picture, though still remaining hunched. Her shoulders began to shake. 

If you had just chanced a glance at her slumped figure, you would have thought that she was tired, or maybe even weeping. But upon closer inspection you would see the crinkled lines around her eyes and the curling of the lips that signaled to her feelings of unbridled joy, and upon listening closely you would hear an undeniable raspy chuckle emanating from deep inside her being. 

Slowly Hermione stood up from her desk, her wooden chair screeching against the stone floors of her quarters. Her hands moved up to her hair, which had the slickness of not being washed for at least a week, though still had a natural thickness about it. As one hand moved through the roots of her hair to the ends in a relatively smooth motion, the other hand moved, quaking, up to her mouth in attempt to stifle the rapidly rising laughs in her throat, but to no avail. Looking around wildly she suddenly froze and looked to her sketches on the walls. With a start, she began to tirade around the perimeter of the room at a quick, jumpy stride. As she passed each sketch she ripped it violently from the walls and tossed it above her head, laughing madly as they fluttered like distressed birds to the floor. 

When all the sketches had fallen, Hermione turned to the last remaining sketch on the walls, which was that of the charcoal man. Stopping her tirade, she slowly ceased her wild laughing and took quiet, but gasping, emotional breaths as tears began to fall down her cheeks, reddened by her fervor. Slowly, she plodded with heavy feet to the portrait and gently removed it from the wall, careful not to rip the edges, and held it protectively to her chest before neatly gathering the papers on her desk and adding it to them. With this, she turned and fell in a heap on the floor on top of the other crumpled and discarded drawings, her robes swirling around her. The smile on her face didn't falter, even as the candle on the table flickered and went out.

Hermione had found what she had spent almost an entire year searching for. Her project was personal, not funded by the University due to lack of interest and need of good results for the wizarding world. But her desperate need for results, to Hermione, knew no bounds. She had thought it wouldn't be possible, but it was, she had proved it.

Hermione had found a way. A way for Severus to see.


	2. Chapter Two

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Eek! Reviews!

Wowza! I never thought people would respond already! I am very grateful to everyone who replied. Just an FYI, I have emailed Resmiranda to tell her about this story, but she has yet to reply! I almost decided to wait until she did, but I figured that you all wouldn't want to wait for too long! So here is the next chapter. I regret to inform you all that I am going on a camping extravaganza _(!!!what a word!!!)_ next week so I will not have the chance to post any updates until at least the Monday after next. I hopefully will have a few extra moments to write down a bit in my notebook, maybe while I'm canoeing, so expect a little woodsy stuff in the next chapter. I also predict that the beauty of Mother Nature will inspire me to write some original prose to include as well. Cross your fingers.

Again, I would love to have a BETA reader, and a few people to discuss possible plot lines with, so if you have a spare moment e-mail me at becca52@pacbell.net . 

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Aries: How am I supposed to know? I'm just the writer… but perhaps…

Hermione woke up lying on the stone floor of her office, with a smile still on her face. She sat up stiffly adjusting her cricked neck, and peeled off the paper that had plastered itself to her cheek as she slept on it last night. Slowly she stood and surveyed the damage she had done the night before in her excitement. Papers strewn about the floor, bottles tipped on shelves. Shifting slightly she turned to the cauldron still levitating to the side of her desk, the fire underneath long burned out. With a wave of her wand the cauldron lowered itself to the floor and was magically emptied of the useless potion inside. With a another flick of the wand Hermione's personal belongings began to fly from her desk. Small picture frames and enchanted knickknacks piled carefully into the deep hollow of the empty cauldron. Going over to her books and potion ingredients, she cast a reducing charm with allowed them all to magically fit into the cauldron, and another featherweight charm allowed her to lift the cauldron without throwing out her back. She then left the barren room , but not before taking the stack of papers on her desk carefully in hand. 

Walking down the hall of the decrepit University building, Hermione listened as the floorboards beneath her squeaked and creaked with her every step. The building in which her office was situated had once been an old library, hence the readily available shelves and cabinets. It was now used by the University, as an office building, for their more promising and valuable students. Hermione had earned her place here by composing a revolutionary theoretic essay, on the ethics of the transfiguration of impercipient objects into sentient beings, for which she had won the Idealistic Wizard of the Year Award. She smiled as she remembered the animated, if slightly confusing, letter that Professor McGonagall had wrote to her at hearing of the award. Her excitement had transferred into the letter and caused the words on the parchment to shiver and shift from side to side as Hermione tried to read them. 

The University refused to fund her studies on transfiguratory or potion solutions for incurable blindness, but they didn't hesitate to offer her an office in the building. Hermione wasn't stupid enough to believe this was an act of appreciation or kindness from the higher authorities. She knew it was only so that if she succeeded, they could claim some sort of hand in her success. 

Hermione snorted.

"Some hand this is, putting me up in an old rundown office surrounded by hoards of prats." She thought in a fond tone.

Most people who worked in adjacent offices to hers were indescribably rude from the first day, and she had no doubt that they mocked her purpose behind her back. They often complained about the broken-down old building in which they worked, about how the floor squeaked, and the windows never fully closed, letting in icy wind and rain without mercy. It was true that the building was drafty, creaky, and temperamental, but to Hermione it had a moldy sort of charm that appealed to her. The halls and rooms had a personality, which in her opinion was much better than a sterile laboratory any day. She would miss this building. Continuing down the hall and down a shady staircase she entered the main hall on the ground floor of the old library building. This was the room where the other students met to eat once of twice a week, and get away from their work, when they could bear to tear themselves away. Hermione could never remember coming down here for any reason, aside from to walk through on her way to and from her office. 

As she made her way to the front door she heard whispered voices from the figures gathered around the fireplace on an overstuffed split pea green covered couch, and sprawled on the moth-eaten oriental rug. She heard a voice call out to her from the group, a male's, high and teasing.

"So you've finally been kicked out Hermione? I was wondering when the professors would realize that your project was useless. Been here a year, you have, and what have you to show for it."

Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to face the sniggering group, her face still calm. Nothing could fluster her now.

"Come to think of it," the man continued in a mock-serious tone, his face contorted in false concern, "maybe you just gave up. I guess you must have realized what a hopeless cause yours was, huh Granger? Must've finally figured out that nobody cares about the odd blind wizard out there. How many are there anyway, ten or eleven? Big change in the world you're making."

Brainless guffawing echoed from all around him but died down as Hermione drew out her wand and advanced towards them, smiling a small smile. She began to speak.

"Oh Kabuo, how you are gravely correct. My poor, but successful, project will probably have little impact on the wizarding community as a whole." 

The jaws of everyone listening dropped in surprise at the revelation that Hermione's project had been successful and a few noses wrinkled as Hermione got closer. Hermione made a mental note to wash her hair before she headed to the dean's office. Satisfied but not finished, Hermione continued. 

"Of course, at least I earned my office. I earned the right to do what I please with my time instead of taking further classes. But you Kabuo, you paid your way into the University and you know it. How is your project coming along? What was it again? Inventing a charm to convince people your useful to anyone? I hope it goes well, because you're going to need it when you enter the real world. Good luck!"

With this she turned with her cauldron and strode out the door, and onto the mushy leaf-covered grass towards the Administration building. Not wanting to take any more time then needed, she cleaned her hair magically. She would have to inform her subject dean of her success, and tell him of her plans to leave as soon as possible.

The next night, in a room filled with whizzing contraptions, a very frayed hat, a large red bird, and many books, a very startled Dumbledore was roused from his deep contemplation by a shuffling, muffled noise coming from his closet, into which had flown a very ruffled and confused owl. Chuckling amusedly Dumbledore reached in one wizened hand and pulled the bedraggled creature from it's tangled web of cloaks. Holding it and examining it with both hands, Dumbledore chuckled again. 

"Blown in by the wind, aye little fellow? I dare suppose you didn't mean to savage my cloaks?"

The owl blinked one of his eyes, clearly dazed. Dumbledore reached the owl's leg and gently untied the attached letter, which was stamped with the letters **HG**. With a great smile and twinkling eyes, Dumbledore once again took a seat at his desk and broke the wax seal, unraveling the parchment, simultaneously plopping the owl on a vacant chair. Dumbledore glanced at the letter, reached into a drawer and removed spectacles, which he perched on his nose, and then looked at the letter again.

"Ah, Hermione Granger. I haven't the privilege of hearing from the dear girl since… It must have been at least last December at Christmas." He spoke this pointedly to the owl propped up in it's own chair. "I remember it well. I had just returned from a very exciting Yule Ball. I must say it was one of my best! The icicles were beautiful as usual of course. Professor McGonagall had just transfigured a very festive…"

Dumbledore was interrupted by a weak hoot, which clearly was tinged with the owl equivalent of impatience.

"Oh yes! The letter!" exclaimed Dumbledore, finally settling down to finish what he had begun.

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Dearest Professor Dumbledore,

I hope my letter finds you well. I apologize for not writing to you sooner. I believe the last time I heard from you was in July. Again I apologize for not writing. Since I received my award, I fear I have been graced with a work ethic of a house-elf, never tiring and never stopping. I have basically been living in my office for the last few months. I know that you are probably wondering what I have been doing for so long and that is an answer requiring a story, and a long one at that. Please allow me to abridge it until we can meet face to face. I had planned to speak with you at Ron Weasley's wedding, I have no doubt that you were invited, but urgent circumstances have arisen. I plan on coming to Hogwarts at your first available convenience, so hopefully you will not have to wait for long.

For the past year I have been granted permission by the University to work on a personal project out of my office, bequeathed to me as a result of the award. This year I have not attended classes, instead devoting myself wholeheartedly to my work. My purpose. Using advanced forms of transfiguration and aided by potions, I have been researching cures for Professor Snape's form of blindness. Unfortunately my efforts were fruitless, due to lack of funding from the University, and lack of assistance. Not many thought it wise to devote valuable time to such an impossible and unimportant cause. 

I worked as if possessed. I admit it. It became an obsession to the point that I sometimes forgot to eat and sleep. I needed to prove that my ideas were possible, if not to them, then to myself. I was beginning to lose hope, until yesterday. Yesterday I had been working at my desk. It had been late and I hadn't lain down for many hours. I had sensed that I was beginning to fall prey to weariness, but I knew I couldn't quit then. I felt like I was nearing a breakthrough. I could almost touch it with the tips of my fingers, and then it happened. It seemed as if it was almost by chance. I had been going about my combinations all-wrong, and in my exhausted stupor I had slightly miswrote one of my original formulas. It worked. I checked it over numerous times. I must have covered at least three feet of parchment in checking it. It was correct. It had to work. Professor, I believe I have found a cure for Professor Snape's blindness.

At this professor Dumbledore adjusted his glances once more and reread the letter. Satisfied that his eyes had not betrayed him, her continued, however distracted, to read the remainder of the letter.

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Please do not inform the professor of this. I would rather be the one to tell him. If possible, please send the first possible date of my arrival, but do not tell Professor Snape that I am to come. I feel like surprising him.

Professor, I am so happy. I always knew I could find a way for him to see again. I always hoped. I now realize that the wind outside is picking up and I fear that Arrow might not make it to you as fast as I'd hoped. But it would probably take longer if I was to wait for the storm to die down, so I'll send it tonight. I entrust that he will be exhausted by the time he arrives, but I know that Hagrid will probably be up to taking care of him for me. Thank you for everything Professor.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

Stunned, Dumbledore sat for a few minutes, deep in thought, before once again being roused by a soft hooting coming from the chair beside him. 

"Ah, Arrow is it? Yes I'm sure, as Ms. Granger suspected; Hagrid will be delighted to meet you. "

With a final look at the letter, Dumbledore gathered up Arrow in his arms and made his way to Hagrid's hut. He knew that Hermione's discovery would not only change Severus's life, but her own, forever. He wasn't sure how he felt. One part of him was delighted at Hermione's success, but another part wondered at what price it would come.

Hermione arrived at Hogwarts in midday. She had received the letter from Dumbledore instructing her to come at her earliest convenience. She had packed her things within two days, and ended up arriving only three days after the night she wrote Dumbledore. She figured that classes must have been going on. If she was correct, and if the times hadn't changed since she had been here, the last class before lunch would be ending within the next half-hour. Hurriedly she levitated her trunk and made her way across the ground towards the entrance to the Great Hall. 

She entered the castle to find the hallways deserted, as she suspected, everyone in the castle was in class. She continued into the hall, turning to go down a stairwell which led to the dungeons. She knew she should have first visited Dumbledore, but her anticipation at finally seeing Professor Snape after not seeing him for so long made the blood in her veins carbonate with delicious hysteria. Her heart warmed every time she thought of her last time with Snape in his garden, the way his heart had opened up, the way he had held her hand. She couldn't bear to wait another moment. She hurried down to the old potion's classroom, which she knew was now converted into a rune chamber. Standing outside and waiting for the class to end, Hermione wondered if any of the other teachers knew of her coming. She doubted it, because if she knew the teachers of Hogwarts, the secret would never stay a secret for long. Listening closely, she heard the silky voice of Snape floating through the cracks in the door. She knew his tone well, and she could see in her mind's eye the students inside, cowering at their desks.

"Once again I remind you that the study of Runes is not for the incompetent. Runes are extremely complex and one can have as many as two dozen meanings in different situations. **_Mr. Pittlebish! _**Can you repeat what I just told the class in detail please? No? I thought not. That will be twenty points from Gryffindor, and if I have to remind you again to pay attention in class it will… No, I do not care if your wand is broken. Why is your wand out in class at all? I don't recall the need for foolish wand waving in the study of Runes! Five more points from Gryffindor for your incompetence, and if I need to speak to you again, it will be a detention."

Hermione smirked at Snape's predictable and hardly endearing nature. It was good to know that he hadn't changed. She stood back against the wall as she heard the unmistakable sounds of students rising from their seats and a moment later watched as the door to the class opened and students began to stream out. Too preoccupied with their own relief at being free of Snape's class, and their hunger to get to the Great Hall for lunch, they didn't take notice of the strange, pale, bushy-haired young woman standing in the hallway with a trunk. 

Hermione's breath caught in her chest as she looked through the open door into the classroom. Standing at his desk, looking as mean and belligerent as ever was Snape. Hermione's urge to run to him immediately wash squished at the shock of finally seeing him, so instead she just stood, mouth slightly open, still not breathing. Her hands had her robes in an iron-like vise. Snape was wearing his usual black robes, his hair was still long and silky black, but Hermione noticed that he was finally wearing the dark glasses Hermione had given him.

"It took him long enough." Hermione thought to herself in disbelief. She thought he would never tire of his bandages. 

Snape stood at his desk as the last of his students filed out of the dungeon classroom. He knew it was time for lunch, and he tested the air with a deep breath. He predicted sandwiches. 

"I wonder if the house-elves are losing their touch. I hope they pick up on their cooking soon, seeing as I've had enough sandwiches to last me the rest of the school year." Snape thought, grimacing to the empty room. "Perhaps an apple will have to do," Snape picked up his cane and made his way out of the room.

"or maybe a…"

Snape stopped dead just outside the doorway and took at shallow breath through his nose. 

"mango."

Standing still and quiet, he heard quick, shallow breaths coming from across the hall. He heard a small scrape of cloak against stone, and realized that whoever was there was leaning against the wall. He took another breath and a sudden realization struck him. His stomach leapt into his throat.

He spoke.

"Miss Granger."

With a rustle of a cloak and the sound of timid footsteps Snape tensed, wondering if he had spoken too soon.

The person stopped directly in front of him, and took his hand; wrapping their thin, warm, delicate fingers around his. Snape relaxed.

"Hello Professor Snape."


	3. Chapter Three

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I learned how to juggle!

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Hey everyone! I'm back from camping. I really had a wonderful time! Rock climbing, canoeing, and hiking really does wonders for the spirit. I also saw Signs. I was a great movie on every level. Highly recommended. I also recommend xXx with Vin Diesel, because a major bridge in my town, Auburn CA, is in the opening sequence. It's called the Foresthill Bridge. Vin jumps off it with his car, which he later parachutes out of. YAY! Fun stuff. I really hope you all haven't given up on the story (I was only gone for a week!) and I hope this chapter is greatly esteemed (a la` Sense and Sensibility) I also encourage you all to pray if you haven't lately. (Your) God is reaching out to you. 

As Hermione took Snape's hand her heart was racing to a staccato beat. She didn't know how he would react, but when he held her hand back, and he didn't pull away she knew that nothing had changed. 

"Hello Professor Snape."

Snape's face curled into a grimace as he answered.

"Maybe you could warn me next time you are to come Miss Granger. Of course, just because you didn't say anything, didn't mean I wasn't aware you were there."

In his head Snape continued the finished sentence, "I just didn't believe it."

Hearing Hermione chuckle, Snape knew she didn't take his face seriously. No surprise. Just because he looked angry didn't mean he sounded it. His mood was positively ecstatic at her visit, and it could be heard in his speech. He could almost imagine the smile on her sixteen year-old face.

"But she isn't sixteen anymore." Snape thought to himself in amazement. "She probably looks totally different." He couldn't believe that he didn't know what she looked like. Being blind still surprised him sometimes.

Hermione spoke again.

"Maybe we should go to lunch. I am a bit hungry, if you don't mind."

At the thought of sandwiches Snape wrinkled his nose, but obligingly released Hermione's hand and replaced it with his cane. Heading down the drafty passages towards the Great Hall he was once again consumed by his thoughts. He wondered why she had come. He couldn't convince himself it was only to see him. She must have some sort of business with McGonagall or Dumbledore. He wondered what it was.

"When did you arrive Miss Granger?"

Hermione relaxed at finally hearing his voice again. She knew that Snape probably found the silence companionable, but it was beginning to make her uncomfortable. Funny, she thought she should probably be used to silence by now. Nobody had really had a conversation with her in many weeks. Still, maybe it was the environment. No one was ever quiet in Hogwarts, as was evidenced by the students swarming around them all in loud conversations. A few looked up as Snape and Hermione passed. Some nudged and whispered, others who were older, recognized Hermione and waved hello. 

"Just about a half hour ago."

As she said this they entered the Great Hall and walked towards the staff table. Nervously Hermione eyed the occupied seats. She wasn't quite comfortable sitting at the Head Table, and she fought the urge to sit down in a vacant seat near some Gryffindor first years. As they approached the table, Professor Flitwick spotted them and happily gasped, obviously at a loss for words. McGonagall, noticing Flitwick, looked around for the source of his excitement, with a slightly perturbed look on her face. At spotting Hermione standing next to Snape she unwillingly mimicked Flitwick, clapping her hands in surprise and bustled over to them with motherly abandon. Reaching Hermione, she pulled her into an unabashed hug talking a bit too loudly in a delighted tone. 

"Hermione! Why haven't you written me to tell me you were to come? Oh of course you've been busy my girl, Transfiguration is very difficult and requires dedication. I always knew…"

As McGonagall rambled along this slightly smug thread, Hermione glanced over her shoulder to a grinning Dumbledore, and returned his smile shyly. However long she'd known the man, she was still humbled (though not uncomfortable) in his presence. Turning back to McGonagall Hermione cleared her throat slightly. Stopping mid sentence, McGonagall looked around, and noticing the sniggering student faces around her quickly straightened her robes, returning to her strict and unruffled self almost instantly. 

"Excuse me Miss Bean, but what are you looking at. Get back to your lunch. You too Miss Tonelli." She turned to Hermione and took her arm, continuing stuffily. "Honestly these children, losing all respect these days." 

Walking alongside McGonagall, Hermione looked around for Snape and saw him already taking his seat. Nodding a curt hello at Dumbledore while muttering words Hermione could not hear, he bent his head over his plate so that his hair fell over his face. Hermione continued to watch him as she sat beside him, his nose wrinkling once again. As she had gotten closer, she could hear Dumbledore's reply to what Snape had said.

"…house elves. They have been given the opportunity to rest for a few weeks. I asked them to make uncomplicated meals all day, but all I could argue to was lunch. They seemed quiet adamant to do their best at all times, so they've decided that sandwiches for lunch is rest enough for them. Though…" Dumbledore lifted a dainty sandwich close to his eyes and studied it over his bifocals, "I daresay that by the looks of these sandwiches, they took all day to prepare. Do you agree Miss Granger?"

Blushing, Hermione smiled a full-mouthed smile, quickly swallowed and responded that she agreed. 

Snape sniffed.

"To me, looks are nothing. No matter how complicated, they are still sandwiches nonetheless. Accio grapes."

From one of the nearby fruit bowls a bunch of grapes zoomed into Snape's open hand. Snape sat back in his chair and indignantly popped one into his mouth, settling the rest of the bunch down onto his plate. 

Giving Snape a quick squeeze on the shoulder, Dumbledore's attention turned back to Hermione.

"So Miss Granger, I expected no less of you then to arrive as soon as you could. I'm also not surprised that you went to Professor Snape first. Severus, what do you think about…" 

Hurriedly Hermione shook her head to signal that she hadn't yet told Snape the news and Dumbledore switched threads immediately.

" Miss Granger coming to visit." 

"I am pleasantly surprised. It is unfortunate that I will be seeing so little of her. No doubt that she will be throwing herself into whatever task you or McGonagall has assigned her." He said this sarcastically and no one around him missed the "sentimental" innuendo that he used. 

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"What makes you believe that she has come here for any reason other than to visit you?"

Of course Dumbledore knew that Snape didn't esteem himself highly enough to believe that anyone would want to visit him. I made him happy to see Snape so uncomfortable at this. He was fighting with his own emotions.

Snape's mind was racing. He couldn't believe what Dumbledore had said. He knew though that it must be true, because if it wasn't McGonagall would have probably been bragging long before Hermione had arrived. He tried to ignore the feelings tugging at his heart.

__

She came to see him.

Luckily Dumbledore didn't expect an answer, and he continued. "Would you care to accompany Miss Granger to her quarters, and help her with any unpacking she may need to do?" 

"If need be."

Hermione was grateful to Dumbledore for giving her this chance to talk to Snape alone. She could never tell him the news at the staff table in front of all of the other teachers, who were now all asking Hermione about her University experiences. She hastily informed a smirking Professor Sprout that the University Herbology professor didn't hold a candle to her knowledge of Plurssing Plant pruning, and told Professor Sinistra of the new stars recently added to the Astronomical Database of Heavenly Bodies with Magical Properties. Quickly lunch was over, and after thanking Dumbledore for taking over his classes, Snape led Hermione out of the Great Hall and towards her quarters, which were near to Snape's own.

"Not very many rooms are available at the moment with the exception of student dorms and 'dungeon suites'. Here we are.'" 

Snape muttered a password, "aquacia colora", and a heavy stone door swung in to reveal a room that made Hermione catch her breath. The stone floor ended at the hallway and in the room, turned into plush black-navy carpet. The room just inside seemed to be a sitting room. Overstuffed, silvery-white chairs, framed by mahogany lion's feet arm rests and legs stood around a bare coffee table, close to an unlit fireplace. On the stone walls were bookcases devoid of books and pictures that moved as much as any others in the castle. Most showed shadowy forest landscapes, but one showed a lonely looking witch sitting in a field of blue flowers at night, who immediately sprang to life and followed Hermione into the next room, waving wildly, from frame to frame. 

The next room was a bedroom with the same thick carpet, and same mahogany furniture, including dressers, a desk, and a chest at the foot of the bed. Hermione gasped when she saw the bed. It was huge! The high mattress surrounded by a mahogany bed frame a heavy canopy, magically printed with the likeness of a forest at night. The trees stood before a background of twinkling stars and moonlight filtered through gaps in their branches onto the leaf-littered forest floor. Hermione gasped once again as a deer silently bounded between the trees, near the base of the canopy, stirring a white owl from it's hiding place. As Hermione watched, the owl preened its feathers and once again disappeared into the dense thicket. Leaving the bedroom, she glanced into the room she hadn't yet seen and it was a bathroom as elegantly furnished as either of the other rooms, complete with towels, and a very large bath. 

She reentered the sitting room to find Snape standing just inside the doorway with an uncomfortable look on his face. 

"Come inside Professor. You can't expect to help me unpack from there."

With obvious reluctance Snape walked into the room and stood, waiting for instruction. 

"Oh relax Professor. You came to help me unpack. It isn't as if you are intruding into my personal rooms."

"Like you did to my own?" Snape asked with biting sarcasm. Hermione ignored him and continued. 

"These rooms are beautiful by the way. Have they always been like this?"

"Since I have worked here Miss Granger, and probably long before." He moved to a nearby chair and sat down, his arms crossed. "Many of these rooms are furnished with objects from the time of the founders. I believe the name for these rooms is the Night Quarters." 

"Which is fitting in my opinion." Hermione said with a sigh, and sat in the chair next to Snape.

They sat in silence for a few moments until Hermione spoke up again.

"What have you been doing since we talked last Professor?"

Snape adjusted in the chair and rested his chin on his hand. He had obviously calmed a bit, since his words were spoken evenly and thoughtfully.

"As is usual, I have been teaching. Thankfully, Runes is interesting enough, though every day I spend with these incompetent dunderheads is wearing me thinner."

"As is usual."

"I can't argue. I have been doing more reading. Mostly checking books out of the library and using Braille. I went through most of the books in my personal collection quickly, and most more than once. History of magic, magical lore, astronomy, almost any subject available."

Hermione knew without asking what the almost referred to. Potions depressed him, and Arithmacy scared him. It was hard to imagine Snape being afraid of anything, he had never really been afraid of even Voldemort, just despised him. But Hermione surmised that maybe instead of fear, Snape felt hate. He couldn't hate Arithmacy, because it had done him so much good, but he feared it because he couldn't control it. Hermione could relate.

"And the garden?" Hermione inquired.

"Winter is almost here. I've already cut back the old growth. There is nothing left to do with it. I miss working in it sometimes."

"Can we go see it?" Hermione's eagerness was betrayed by her voice. She couldn't wait to see the garden again. It held so many good memories, and so many emotions were attached to it. She wanted to tell Snape her news there. It just seemed to fit. 

"If you want to. I warn you though that it isn't in its most beautiful of states."

Hermione smiled a knowing smile. Snape was defensive of his garden, and she knew it would annoy him to no end if she thought he had let it fall into disrepair again. "It wasn't when I first saw it either, but I still went back to it and I still want to see it now. Should we go then?" 

When they stepped out into the crisp September air, into the garden, Hermione's nerves were instantly calmed. As she had walked there with Snape her happiness at telling Snape of the cure was replaced by a tenseness in her shoulders and an unfounded feeling of worry. But as she walked towards their usual bench led by Snape and his cane, her worries melted away and as she sat into the bench that seemed to mold to her back perfectly, her shoulders released. Snape continued to walk past the bench and towards the only non-brown plant in the garden, which was actually flowering. With grace, he used his hand to feel for an opened blossom, and then plucked it carefully from it's stem. He walked back to Hermione and handed the flower to her.

"It's a Glacia I obtained from Professor Sprout. They are very difficult to care for and they flourish in the cold. It is the only plant here that does so. I planted the bulb this summer. Feel the flower." 

Hermione gently stroked the clear-white petal with her finger and pulled it back with surprise. The blossom was ice cold. 

"It's beautiful."

Snape smirked with obvious pride.

"That isn't all." Reaching towards Hermione, he took the flower again and walked to a different part of the garden. Bending down, he felt for a trough and dug a hole, with difficulty, in a patch of frozen, bare earth. He placed the flower carefully in the hole, which he then recovered. 

"What do you see?"

Hermione looked at the patch of freshly dug earth, which was already frosting over in the September cold.

"I don't see anything"

Snape sighed loudly.

"Well come here and look closer then!"

Hurrying over to stand next to Snape Hermione crouched down to look closer, brushing her unruly hair out of her eyes.

In an instant she saw a small seedling pop out of the earth. 

"It regenerated."

"Yes it did. It is very easy to procure a regeneration of a Glacia. In fact many wizards prefer them. They grow extremely quickly and become tougher by regeneration. They also lose their magical properties unfortunately, but of course grow no less beautiful. What makes a true, original Glacia so rare is the fact that Glacia bulbs can only be procured from an original Glacia, and there are probably less than twelve of those in existence today."

Hermione stood in awe as the little Glacia seedling sprouted two more leaves before her eyes. 

"It will probably be mature within two hours. Would you like to watch?"

"Yes!" Hermione responded eagerly. "Of course!"

So they sat for two hours. They talked of the magical properties of an original Glacia and discussed other plants new to the garden, as Hermione watched in amazement as the plant grew in fast forward. By the time the plant had reached maturity the sun was beginning to set and Hermione knew it was time to tell Snape.

This was the best day Snape could remember ever having. The surprise of her arriving would have been enough, but the fact that she had come to see him, that she had sat with him in the garden, and that they had talked for hours was like a cake on top of the icing. He couldn't imagine anything more. He sat in contented silence as he felt the warmth of the sun leaving his face, as the sun set. It grew colder, but neither Snape, nor Hermione noticed.

"Snape, you know I've been working this year at the University."

"How couldn't I? Minerva has been gloating all year that you have you own office there for your work with Transfiguration."

"She didn't tell you what I was doing in the office."

"No she didn't."

"Because I didn't tell her."

Snape snorted. "Intelligent decision."

"I've been working with Transfiguration of course… and also with potions."

Snape frowned at this and shifted his seat. 

"I have been looking for ways to use them in correlation with each other. I created many new tranfigurative formulas, and innumerable potions. I was looking for a certain match, I needed to create a certain magical bond."

"Extremely ambitious of you, not to mention very difficult. What was all of it for?"

Hermione paused here. It was at this moment, that time stopped. At this moment, that her breathing ceased, as did her heartbeat. 

"I was…"

Snape sat in silence expectantly, yet unexpecting.

"I was trying to find a cure" She swallowed, "for your blindness."

"But you didn't succeed." Snape said, still not turning in Hermione's direction.

"I did."

Snape's entire body suddenly became aware of how cold it was outside, and he clenched his fingers. "It is pretty cold out here." he thought to himself. "We should probably be going inside soon." 

"I was trying to find a cure for your blindness."

The hairs on the nape of Snape's neck stood up, and he knew it wasn't from the cold.

"But you didn't succeed." 

"She couldn't have." He thought to himself, shaking his head slightly.

"I did." 

Snape turned to face Hermione and was silent for but a moment before getting jarringly to his feet. 

"I can't believe you."

Grabbing his cane he made his way towards the doorway into the castle, and to the stairway. He couldn't block out the pleading voice of Hermione behind him.

"Severus!"

He shook away the pain at hearing her call his name.

"I won't believe you!"

Hermione stood and ran after Snape, who was now also running, regardless of his cane. He was heading for Dumbledore's office.

When he skidded in front of the place he knew Dumbledore's office to be, he said the password, and was rewarded by the sound of the stone gargoyle scraping over the stone, revealing the passageway behind. Almost tripping down the steps he finally reached Dumbledore's office door, which he barged through without knocking and locked magically behind him. He heard steps coming down the stairs.

"Severus, what are you doing here?" Dumbledore rose with a worried look on his face, from his chair at his desk.

Snape stood before the desk and gripped the edge of it as he leaned over. He spoke between deep gasps, trying to catch his breath. 

"Miss Granger… Hermione… says… she has found… a cure for me. It can't… be true."

Hurrying around the desk Dumbledore forced Snape into a chair and conjured him a glass of water, which Snape pushed away.

"Did she tell you this?" He asked angrily. "Did she?"

"Yes she did Severus, and I have no reason not to believe her."

At this point in time, the office door slammed open after a cry of "alohomora" and Hermione stood in the doorway, breathing sharply, and staring with a look of anger at Snape.

"How dare you?" she yelled, her face turning red, "I tell you I've found a cure and you…"

"Ah Hermione, how glad I am that you've joined us. Please, please take a seat."

He said this with a smile and a steely glint in his eye that made Hermione shut her mouth automatically and take a seat next to Snape. She grabbed the glass of water that Snape had pushed away and drained it in about three gulps. Dumbledore conjured her another, which she pushed away. She was starting to feel quite sick.

"As I was saying Severus, yes, Hermione believes she has found a cure. She told me about it just a few days ago, but asked me not to speak with you about it. She wanted to tell you herself. Do you not trust her word?"

"I do." Snape said, "But it just can't be true." He spoke these words with a pleading expression.

"It is." Hermione whispered, taking Snape's hand in her own. 

"It is," continued Dumbledore sternly, but with a small smile. "So the question whether or not you choose a cure."

Snape listened with ears that couldn't hear, and spoke his next word with a mouth that couldn't speak. All he knew was the hand on his own, firm and warm, gripping tightly, like a bond from darkness to light.

"Yes."

With this he released Hermione's hand and left Dumbledore's office, closing the door behind him.

Hermione just looked at Dumbledore, her mouth slightly open, until she heard a triumphant yell from the top of the stairwell.

At this she dissolved into happy tears and Dumbledore patted her hand.

**__**

Author's Note: I just wanted to say that Snape's outburst was derived from canon. His emotions right then are the exact opposite (yet strikingly similar) to those at the end of POA. Instead of immense disappointment, he is feeling extreme triumph. Situation different, reaction similar. I like to think Snape responds similarly to all severe emotional ups and downs. He goes nuts. Maybe since he usually suffers downs he doesn't know any other way to respond. 


	4. Chapter Four

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Beta Reader!

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Author's Note: Yay and double wahoo! I now have myself a beta reader! Everyone say hello to Alexis! I'm so excited. She'll be starting with chapter five so everyone be on the lookout for good grammar and prose-flow! This is likely to be one of my favorite chapters, so be nice in your criticism. J Of course, everyone who has reviewed so far was very encouraging. I realy appreciate the comments that I have the character's emotions right. That's what I'm going for!!! I could kiss you all, but I just ate a sun-dried tomato bagel, and my breath is all spicy. Yum! I am also feeling pretty indecisive about naming the chapters. I think I want to make them just, Chapter One, Chapter Two etc, and I'm even thinking of changing the title and summary. Tell me what I should do! Anywho, please please please enjoy! 

Walking back to her quarters Hermione dried her eyes on her robe sleeve. She hadn't expected to fall to pieces in Dumbledore's office like she did, but everything seemed to just crash in at that moment. Today had been an emotional roller coaster ride. From the beginning, she was elated at meeting Snape, then content with him, worried about him, and then frustrated beyond belief at him. When she had finally heard him yell, so victoriously, and known he was happy it had been a huge release.

"Yes, a huge release. These darn tears are flowing like water from a broken damn. Pull yourself together Hermione." Hermione smiled at her own hysterical breakdown, and her thoughts turned once again to Snape. His reaction to her news hadn't been what she expected at all. Sure she'd seen some of Snape's worst breakdowns, and been involved in some of his worst experiences, but she thought this news would make him happy, not mad (in more ways than one). She almost had begun to think her efforts had all been in vain, and that he wouldn't believe her. She had gotten so angry she had almost hexed him. Luckily Dumbledore was in the room when she finally caught up with him, or Severus wouldn't need eyes to tell he was in bad shape.

__

Severus

Usually she only called him that in her head, for fear he would grow annoyed with her if she called him anything but Professor Snape. But she had let the name slip when she had called to him, when he was running away.

"Like the rust on the razor that threatens the throat." Hermione thought, "Unnecessary insult."* She reminded herself never to slip again.

Snape much subdued himself upon exiting the staircase from Dumbledore's office and entering the main hallway. He felt like running up to everyone around him and screaming that "he could seeeeeee them", but he decided that decorum was called for even in the most emotionally heightened of situations.

"Too bad you didn't think of that when you ran hysterically to Dumbledore a moment ago Severus." Snape shook his head, disgusted by his outburst, but even that thought couldn't wipe the smirk off of his face.

"Hellooooo Severus! You are looking in good spirits this evening!"

Snape jumped at the sound of the squeaky voice coming from about the height of his hip. He had been so distracted, he hadn't heard Flitwick coming.

"I'm… well, Filius."

__

"Go away!" Snape nervously edged against the wall as Flitwick closed in on him, obviously encouraged by his response.

"Ooo, what a good day today was don't you agree Severus? Miss Granger showing up at the castle and all! Well I hardly expected…"

Snape stood as far away as possible from Flitwick, listening to his squeaky speech with a grimace on his face, which he hardly tried to hide. Of course amid his "Yes, of course"es and his "Indeed"s he hardly thought Flitwick would notice. Snape always expected that he meandered on the edge of happy insanity. He certainly always smiled like it, and it had gotten worse since Dumbledore was defeated. 

__

"No more of this!" Severus straightened his robes with an audible sigh and tried to look as busy as was humanly possible without eyes.

"Filius, if you could just excuse me, I have some pressing business to attend to in my quarters."

"Oh of course!" Before Snape could move out of the way Flitwick came forward and had the nerve to pat Snape's stomach jovially.

"Good night my dear boy!"

Severus stood for a moment, Flitwick's chirping laugh echoing in his ears, before shuddering and straightening his robes compulsively, yet again.

"Yes, very pressing business. Tonight calls for a bath." Snape strode carefully to his quarters, listening for signs of any more Granger-happy staff coming in his direction. Luckily he met none.

Slipping out of his robes and stepping into the steamy bath, Snape groaned and lay back, his hair soaking from the tips upward. Taking off his glasses, he set them beside the bath. Raising his fingertips he tentatively touched the inner rims of his sightless sockets for the first time since that night, when he had reopened the healing flesh and wrote upon the walls with his own blood.

All day the darkness and the cold

Upon my heart have lain,

Like shadows on the winter sky,

Like frost upon the pane.

__

He knew how he must have looked to Hermione in that moment. Disgusting, monstrous, yet still helpless and pathetic. The thought of looking that way still made him want to spit, but he refrained from doing it in his own bath water. She had had every reason to run, every reason to forget she ever saw him, and to pretend she didn't care. Snape often told himself in the early days of his recovery that she didn't care, that she was just doing it for Dumbledore's sake or approval. But the weeks had worn on, and she hadn't given up on him. Helping him in the war against Voldemort and recording his runes, and seeing the often devastating future. She exalted in his successes because they were also her own, and she had suffered ruination at their failures, especially with Dean Thomas. He had tried to push her away then, because her sadness at Dean's death kept him from keeping his failures unpersonal. She had been confused when he had gained his sixth sense with the help of Arithmacy, but she had celebrated with him nonetheless. 

In his madness she stood with him, at the risk of his own safety. He still cursed Madame Pomfrey for allowing such a thing as Hermione visiting him while he was in the delusions of Voldemort. Hermione had always been there for him, whether he wanted her there or not. Even at the end, when he had stumbled from the Malfoy Manor, he had heard her screaming and running to him. It hadn't surprised him, because he knew she would be there.

Lowering his hands from his callused holes, he tried to imagine things in his mind that he wanted to see more than anything. Books of course, and the faces of his students. Ahh, his students, to see the looks of disbelief and dread on their faces once they realized their teacher would be able to identify them by more than their voice. Severus chuckled at the thought, and submerged his head underwater while turning his face into his death glare.

"You haven't lost it Severus, all you are missing are the eyes."

Sitting back up he thought of walking without a cane, seeing the outdoors, the food he was eating, and potions.

Oh, how he missed potions more than anything. It ate at him every day that he couldn't do what he had lived for, for almost his entire life. Potions had been his entire life, but then it had been snatched away, to be replaced by something much more valuable, dangerous, and unpredictable, yet still comfortingly (and annoyingly) familiar.

His thoughts returned to Hermione Granger as he stood up from his bath and wrapped himself in a towel. Shivering in the chilly dungeon air, he felt around for his bathrobe and put it on. He would see her face. He wondered how much she had changed. It amazed him that in the few years he had been blind, he had forgotten color, but her face stood clear in his mind. Crawling in between his silky sheets, he wrapped them around him like a cocoon and fell asleep soundly.

Hermione stood in the abandoned storage room, which held Snape's entire potion making collection. Bottles were meticulously placed on shelves, labeled and ordered by use. Cauldrons on the floor lay bottom up and arranged by size. Books, covered by a thin layer of dust, were piled in the far corner. Hermione knew how it must have killed Snape to put his life away in a side room like this. In this room she felt like she was intruding on something far more private than that which she had intruded on when she found blood on the walls. Hurriedly, but lovingly, Hermione grabbed all the ingredients she hadn't brought with her, along with two cauldrons. If she hurried, she thought running to the Rune Chamber, she could have the potion done by morning. 

The next morning the students in the Great Hall were astonished, though not unhappy, to see Professor Snape missing from the staff table, and hear from a confused Professor Flitwick that their Rune Classes would be canceled for a week.

Professor Sinistra steeped her fingers before her, and upon them rested her chin. She eyed the enchanted ceiling in a bored manner as Professor Trelawny's whiny "all-knowing" voice droned on beside her.

"…I always knew his strength would go out. Without his sight, what does the poor man have to live for? Of course, Vox, my spirit guide, informed me of poor Severus's predicament long before…"

Professor McGonagall voice interrupted like the crack of a whip, and Professor Trelawny flinched.

"And, what might that predicament be Sybill?"

Quickly recovering, Trelawny sat up straight in her chair and replied haughtily. 

"I cannot tell you Minerva, because I do not think it wise to divulge information the Headmaster Albus has not shared with the rest of the staff." She smirked, not noticing the dozen pairs of eyes rolled in her direction.

"Oh yes, Sybill. I sometimes forget that you don't flaunt your gift of being all-knowing."

Sniffing, Trelawny shot a look at McGonagall, stood, and headed in the direction of her tower. When she was out of earshot Professor Sprout whispered worriedly.

"Oh! She was the first to stand, and there were thirteen at the table. Best that nobody tell her, she would be absolutely distraught!"

Professor Flitwick looked at McGonagall obviously trying not to laugh.

"If Trelawny ends up dead anytime soon, I think we all can be sure of who killed her."

Ignoring Flitwick, McGonagall eyed Dumbledore as he stood at the table and headed towards the exit. Without a word, she stood to follow.

Hermione stirred the cauldron sluggishly. The ache had long since surrendered to numbness in her arms as the third hour of stirring ended. Now, in the final minute, the pain returned full-fledged in spying the end. With a final turn, Hermione released her hand and it flopped to her side, throbbing and twitching. Walking to the other cauldron she eyed the yellow potion inside. Grabbing a nearby flask, Hermione measured out the amount she needed and returned to the cauldron she had just finished stirring. This cauldron's potion had turned a swirling silver-blue within the last hour of stirring, and when she added the yellow potion it became a misty green, with fuchsia sparks dancing on the surface. She was now finished with the potion. The tissue healing properties of one potion, combined with the light processing properties of the other combined to form Hermione's potion, which she had named Merce Mercedis Potion, or the Recompense Potion. 

Slumping to the floor, she rested her head to her strong hand and closed her eyes for a moment. She sprang to her feet and walked quickly to the door as she heard footsteps from outside. Looking out, she saw Dumbledore coming down the hall, followed by a tip-toeing McGonagall.

"Hello Miss Granger! Has Severus yet arrived?"

"Hello Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall!" (McGonagall froze) "No he hasn't yet. Come in!"

Hermione turned and headed back to her cauldron as Dumbledore stepped aside to let a sheepish McGonagall pass as he patted her on the shoulder. 

"No questions my dear. Just watch."

McGonagall nodded and, inside the room, went to stand in the corner.

"What ingredients did you use?"

Hermione handed Dumbledore a paper.

"Mostly unassuming. Unicorn horn powder, hartz essence, sliced alwa root…"

Dumbledore nodded, but suddenly looked up from the list with sad eyes.

"Your Source."

From the corner McGonagall gasped.

"Hermione! You are only given one Source at birth. Once it is used, you will never have it again. Your body will never be able to heal without magic! Your heart will cease beating when it is broken and…"

"Professor McGonagall! I am sure that Hermione knows the gravity of her sacrifice, as do I. But the potion is finished, her Source already extracted. There is nothing you can do. Life without a Source is more difficult, of course, but not painful. All that it requires is that she lives carefully and under the protection of magic."

McGonagall cried silently in the corner as Hermione spoke up.

"Professor, it's will be OK. I know what has been done, and I know that my cure will be useless without a willingly given Source. It is almost impossible to ask another for theirs, so I took my own."

McGonagall sniffled and looked at Hermione.

"Cure?"

"Yes," Hermione replied gently, "for Professor Snape."

McGonagall gave another shallow gasp at this, but then wiped her eyes on a handkerchief given her to by Dumbledore, and quieted notably.

"Please don't tell him."

Both Dumbledore and McGonagall nodded, and they all sat in silence for less than a minute before Snape arrived.

Snape sat in the chair and tipped his head back as the potion slid down his throat. He released his breath in relief that wasn't lying poisoned and convulsing on the ground. He listened to Hermione as she told him what she was doing.

"I'm now going to do the transfiguration part of the cure. Basically, it's purpose is to activate the potion and to guide the growing tissue to become what we want it to, in this case eyes, and nerve endings. I shouldn't need to tell you not to move, because I'm sure you know the dangers of combining magics."

Snape clenched and unclenched his fingers. He knew McGonagall was probably itching to speak up right about now, and he was glad she didn't. Amid his own doubts and fears he couldn't help thinking Hermione sounded tired. He fought the urge to reach out and grab her hand.

Hermione removed his glasses to reveal the heavily scarred white, pink, and red tissue below. What would have disgusted her before didn't affect her in the slightest now accept to remind her of the extreme level of concentration she would need to heal it.

Snape heard Hermione take a deep shuddering breath, and then begin to mutter strange, unknown spells under her breath. Some words he recognized and others he didn't. He would have been thoroughly impressed, if it hadn't been for the sudden pinch inside his head. I started like the tips of someone's nails grasping his skin, biting and small, but grew to the feeling of and entire hand firmly holding his head, reaching from the inside out. Then came a buzzing feeling, and he felt the whoosh of magic swirling in front of his face. He shivered as he felt the scabs inside his eye sockets dissolving away and then it felt as a thick mold were growing from the back of the sockets, inching along the inner walls, and finally veiling in the front into eyelids which sealed closed. Next he felt as if tiny balls of rubber were bouncing painfully inside the sealed holes, growing bigger and bigger till they could only vibrate, and then finally big enough so they couldn't do anything but swivel around in his head. They slowly came to a stop, and he felt with a jolt, like a staple, the optic nerve connecting itself. 

Snape's head jumped involuntarily as electric impulses, long foreign to his brain, were rediscovered. Hermione's voice, which had risen volume steadily since she had started, was now positively yelling. With a hiss, the magical string keeping his eyelids closed unthreaded itself, and with a crack, the magic surrounding his entire head concentrated and hit his eyes like a bolt of lightning, slamming his head against the back of the chair. 

All was quiet except for a loud thud, and then all was quiet again. Snape's breathing was heavy and it took him a couple minutes to calm himself down. 

"Severus?" Dumbledore's voice echoed in the silent room.

"Yes…" Snape whispered.

"Are you going to open you eyes?"

__

His eyes. He had eyes.

His heart rate sped up again at the realization that he couldn't sit with his lids closed, in the chair, in dead quiet forever. Taking a final deep breath he squinted his eyes and was met with a bright pain in his head from the light that squeezed through the tiny crack.

__

Light!

Opening his eyes just a little again, Snape shaded his them from the light of the torches of the wall and opened them wider.

Slowly, the images that looked as if he was seeing them through water cleared, and he saw…

__

saw

…Dumbledore leaning over him, smiling a large smile. There was another quiet moment until Snape heard a choking noise. He turned his head to see…

__

see

…McGonagall, staring at him from the corner. McGonagall met his eyes for a moment before looking away. She gasped at something, and then hurried to the right of Snape's chair, bending down. Snape looked…

__

looked

…to where McGonagall was bending over and saw McGonagall gently tapping the side of a sprawled woman's face. The woman's long hair was spread out around her head, like a fluffy pillow, and her face was haggard with exhaustion. Snape realized who this woman must be.

__

Hermione

Without a word he stood, much to the protest of both Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"You really must rest!"

"Yes, yes I agree Severus. This has been quite a day."

Snape leaned down and picked up Hermione, who was small and limp. 

"I can see. I'll take her to her rooms Albus."

This statement was one with which neither could argue, and Snape knew it. He walked out of the Rune Chamber, and down the hall where he knew her rooms to be. He was so distracted by the stone walls, and the sight of drops of water cascading down them that he almost missed her door. When he arrived, he opened his mouth to speak the password, but then changed his mind. He had a better idea.

As Snape made his way through the castle's empty passageways ("The students must be in class.") and to his garden, he struggled to keep his eyes to the floor. He wanted to save his sight for something worthwhile. He wanted to see the outdoors from his garden, not through a window. As he reached the door to outside, he nearly kicked it open in anticipation. 

The wind whipped both his and Hermione's hair as he stepped out into the garden. He looked at the endless gray sky and remembered gray, and he looked at the brown of the plants and remembered brown. He smirked with pride at the sight of the only green plants in the garden, knowing they must be his Glacias. He moved to the bench and sat down. Hermione stirred in his lap, burying her face in his robes, obviously now more asleep than unconscious. He studied the wonders, the miracles, around him and remembered the times he had spent in the garden with Hermione.

He noticed that the memories became clearer when he grabbed her hand. He supposed his mind had grown accustomed to using other senses to recall memories. His idea was strengthened as he took a deep breath of the crisp air and inhaled the intoxicating scent of mangoes. She was so close to him that the smell was almost overpowering. Taking his slightly shaking hand, he ran it through Hermione's hair. 

She was so pretty. Since the last time he had seen he she had gotten taller, and her hair had been cut a bit shorter. He noticed how even thought she had filled out, she still had an underfed appearance, and her skin was very pale. Her lips stood out like a beacon on her face, their red color making the skin around them look even more pallid. 

Snape sat like this, on the bench with Hermione, and watched, for hours. As Hermione slept Snape got excited at seeing birds fly by, fluttering leaves, and students on their way to Care of Magical Creatures class. He watched the sun set, and saw colors he hadn't yet seen since he had regained his sight. He had looked at his arm and saw that he no longer had the Dark Mark. He felt more free than he had ever been.

As the last rays of sun disappeared behind the horizon he stood up. Rolling his shoulders and yawning, he almost dropped Hermione when she stirred. Quickly he sat down again and watched as she opened her warm brown eyes. Their eyes locked for the first time in almost three* years as Hermione put her arm around his neck and raised herself into a stiff sitting position. He watched her as she stood and quickly rose with her as she swayed on her feet. He looked into her eyes again, and this time her cheeks were stained with tears.

"I thought it might not work. I was so worried that I failed…"

Snape pushed away the sarcastic remark dying to escape and forced himself to listen.

"…or that maybe you would push me away and not want a cure. I was so upset when you said you didn't believe me. I thought I'd spent a year of my life on nothing."

"Miss Granger." Snape whispered in his silky voice, as Hermione continued on. He winced slightly and said a bit more loudly "Hermione!" and grabbed each of her shoulders.

Hermione hiccuped a final time before falling silent. Snape continued.

"If you think I'd let you waste a year of your life on nothing, you are much mistaken."

Hermione rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hand, smearing her tears.

"Not waste… never waste."

In that moment, with the soft orange glow of the sunless sky glinting on her skin, her eyes sparkling with tears, and her messy hair stuck to her moist cheeks, Snape knew that she was the most important thing he had seen that day.

Leaning forward, he lowered his lips and very softly brushed hers with his own. His nervousness at kissing anyone knew no bounds. Conflicting emotions inside of him crashed around like rampaging hippogriffs. On one side he felt unstoppable with his sight regained, but on the other side, his old trust issues were rearing their ugly heads. It took all his might not to back away and yell about taking away points, but he didn't and a second later he was rewarded when she didn't pull away.

Hermione hadn't expected his kiss at all. Technically it was the second time he had kissed her. The first being when he was mad, and it hadn't been gentle and earnest, and now this. She pushed away the first and accepted this as the first time he had really kissed her. She didn't pull away.

Their light kiss ended and they both pulled back gently an inch. A warm pocket of air hung between their parted lips. Sitting down again they looked at the sky. Not holding hands, or cuddling, just together. Neither of them were ready to go back to the castle.

**__**

Author's Note: The first asterisk refers to a line I borrowed from Maya Angelou's I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings. It's the line about the rust on the razor being an unnecessary insult. The second asterisk refers to me apologizing if the three year reference isn't correct! Also, I don't want this fic to get fluffy, so I had misgivings about the kiss. I'm really sorry if all of you are out there, sighing in exasperation right now.


	5. Chapter Five

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Spell Check Rocks!

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Author's Note: I just thought all my readers should know that I love you all! Especially the reviewers! Especially Paisley Parker (I bow down before your review. It made me feel all tingly inside) and Spike-Lover get props for being so dang nice (Even though I must say I preferred Angel. You should e-mail me so we can talk Buffy sometime!). Anywho, I hope you all appreciate that I fixed all previous chapters of errors, and adjusted the format to be consistent per chapter. Also, thanks to my beta Alexis! As promised, my poetry is in this chapter, yippee! I really enjoyed the interest in Hermione's Source. 

**__**

Sight.

Shards of violent light,

Weaving with color.

Never another,

Gift such as this.

What I desperately miss.

You,

Who grew upon my frigid heart.

And when your lips part,

You keep me sane,

With warm breath upon my frosted pane.

The next morning when Snape was not in the Great Hall Dumbledore and McGonagall smiled brightly at each other, as the other teachers argued amongst themselves as to why he was not there. Students laughed happily at the prospect of another Snape-free day as Dumbledore announced that Runes would once again be canceled for the day. Innocent youth crowded the hallways to go to their first classes of the day, some huffing and puffing up stairs muttering about blasted Divination, some skipping along to Hagrid's hut and chatting happily about kneazles, and still some playfully giggling and punching their friend as they shuffled towards their Potions class. As the Potion's students entered their drafty classroom they were greeted by the sight of newly added books, cauldrons, and shelved, deadly looking ingredients.

Moose Bean exclaimed that Professor Simmerly must have gone on a shopping spree.

Diane Sparks concluded that it must have been in Knockturn Alley, judging by the poisonous appearance of the new jarred substances.

Ralph Pittlebish was about to add his own two cents until he looked towards the entryway to the classroom and promptly fell out of his chair.

Professor Snape was back, though he didn't look too happy to be there. Striding down the aisle until he stood before the prone Ralph, he spoke, his voice dripping with silky authority.

"Mr. Pittlebish, if you would gladly get off of the floor we could start with today's lesson. Five points from Gryffindor."

Ralph scrambled into his chair with a mumbled "yes sir", and sat stiffly, wondering a question he couldn't wonder aloud. "How had Snape known it was him?"

Other students seemed to be wondering along the same lines, some whispering aloud to their friends, and one unlucky girl passing a note on a scrap of parchment. Quickly reaching out a long-fingered hand, Snape plucked the note deftly from between the two hands as they met in the aisle. 

"Ah, a note. Let's see what it says shall we?"

Students cowered in their seats as Snape read the note aloud.

"How did Snape… _Professor Snape,_ …know Ralph fell out of his chair? Well, well, Miss Carver, what a perfectly valid question." Snape snickered before removing his dark glasses revealing his new eyes to a roomful of slack-jawed Gryffindors and Slytherins. As his adjusted his eyes to the light, he curled his face into his trademark glare and continued, "Though it is one that should have waited for the end of class. Five points from Gryffindor."

He noticed happily that every person in the room had backed away substantially in their chairs as a result of his gaze. Mentally reminding himself to try it again before the end of class he launched into his first Potions lesson for three years.

"Hermione dear! Wake up!"

Hermione groggily opened her eyes and was greeted by a concerned looking McGonagall leaning over her. Quickly sitting up, Hermione threw off her sheets and leapt to her feet.

Pulling on her socks Hermione spoke worriedly.

"Oh gosh, is it Professor Snape. What has happened? We need to get there as soon as possible!"

Placing her hand on Hermione's shoulder McGonagall gently shushed her.

"No, no Hermione! Professor Snape is fine. In fact, unless I am much mistaken, he is right now happily terrorizing his first Potions class of the day. Sit down! It can do you no good to be running around the day after your Source has been extracted."

Remembering at once how exhausted she was, Hermione followed McGonagall's instructions and sat down on the bed with a small groan. Her eyelids still felt extremely heavy. McGonagall patted her back half-heartedly, while looking anxiously around the room. Standing up suddenly, McGonagall puttered around the room, straightening it up as much as she could. It wasn't exactly as if Hermione was messy, but it was obvious that her thoughts lately hadn't been on keeping her rooms tidy. Hermione was drowsy just watching all of McGonagall's movement, and grew slightly dizzy while watching her shake and fold discarded robes. She rested her head in her hands, unable to watch anymore.

"I decided that you had slept enough for one night. The sooner you can come to Professor Dumbledore's office with me, the better. We have some important charms to place on you. You must have extra protection, now that your Source has been removed." At this McGonagall paused and clucked disapprovingly once again, "You do know what repercussions your actions will have, do you not Miss Granger?"

Hermione sighed. She really did not feel like dealing with McGonagall at the moment. All she wanted was blessed sleep. She needn't have worried though, because McGonagall barged ahead without waiting for a response.

"You are obviously weakened already. Without your Source, performing magic weakens you more easily. Even worse, daily life can become tiresome without proper rest. Your heart is also more fragile. Luckily you are a Gryffindor, your heart is strong. Or it was… only time will tell. Come here."

Grabbing Hermione by the arm and pulling her firmly into a standing position, McGonagall muttered a spell, and with a swooshing noise, Hermione was wearing a clean pair of robes and her entire body felt freshly scrubbed. Hermione managed to blurt out a groggy thank you and, leaning against McGonagall, made her way to Dumbledore's office.

Snape sat in front of his fireplace, reading. The swirl of the neatly written words, and the curled corners of the pages yellowed with age, once a novelty taken for granted and overlooked, was now savored. Drinking each word slowly in, Snape sat in silence, absorbed in the poetry of every phrase.

Sighing deeply after re-reading the last page, Snape placed the book neatly back into his bookcase. Returning to his chair in front of the hearth, he stared at the fire and sipped his goblet of brandy. Smiling he thought of the teachers faces when he had arrived to lunch without notice, with a new pair of eyes. Professor Sprout practically fainted and Flitwick had promptly burst into noisy tears He was now, once again, teaching potions and his life felt right again. Back in order as if used to be. Well, almost… His thoughts drifted to The Kiss as the warmth of the fire gently tickled his face. The feeling of her tired hands imprinted itself on his arms; and her lips on his, could still be felt. A little over a month had passed since the night he had regained his sight, and neither of them had said anything to each other about that night, and what they had shared. The next morning, Snape's heart had skipped a beat when he couldn't find her. He feared that she had realized what she had done with him, and then ran; but in reality she had slept in that day. 

Yet even though she didn't seem remorseful about kissing him, she didn't mention it then and hadn't since. Hermione had begun to assist McGonagall in her Transfiguration lessons and often met Snape in the Library or the garden to read together or have exciting and often argumentative conversations. Snape didn't feel uncomfortable around her in the slightest, and their friendship was still intact, but inside Snape had trouble dispelling his own feelings that what he felt for Hermione was more than friendship. But Snape was never one to force himself on a woman, and as always, the well-being and needs of people who meant a lot to him, like Dumbledore and more recently Hermione, came before his own feelings. Snape was used to it by now, "but" he thought to himself, while shattering his empty glass against the wall, "that hardly means it doesn't still hurt."

Hermione lifted the flowing hem of her dress robes to adjust her new strappy high heel shoes. Grimacing, she stood up wobbling and quickly fell back into her chair.

"Darn shoes! How am I supposed to walk in these anyway?"

Finally attaining an almost balanced stance, she made her way to the mirror and looked at her reflection as she put on a pair of pearl earrings. Her hair was up in a clean-cut, but still slightly messy, knot. Her clearly glossed lips and brown and tawny eye make-up suited her perfectly and complimented her white cotton dress robes. She never was one for glitter and pink. Noticing deep shadows under her eyes, she magicked them away. In her opinion, she didn't look half bad and apparently the mirror agreed. It whistled loudly and Hermione blushed and winked at it is she made her way to the door, grabbing her cloak on the way out.

As she entered the Great Hall she saw Dumbledore talking to a gloomy-looking Snape, who was wearing his usual black robes. Dumbledore smiled jovially and cupped Hermione's cheek with a soft wrinkled hand as she reached them.

"Ah, Miss Granger. You look absolutely stunning! I daresay you might outshine the bride!"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders shyly.

"I don't know about that…"

"Nonsense," Dumbledore cried, "do you not agree Severus?"

Snape looked up from his shoes and replied curtly.

"Yes. I agree."

Dumbledore looked over the top of his glasses sternly.

"Severus, just because you are nervous about going to Mr. Weasley's wedding, does not warrant rudeness."

Snape began to reply icily, but Hermione, sensing a tantrum, stepped in.

"I really don't mind Headmaster. Professor Snape is just not a wedding person. Too much white."

Both Hermione and Dumbledore chuckled at their little joke. Snape just scowled. Suddenly he cleared his throat loudly, interrupting Dumbledore mid giggle. 

"I do lament having to end this little chat, but we really should be going. The ceremony is scheduled to begin in an hour."

Hermione agreed, and saying their good byes to Dumbledore, they made their way outside the Hogwarts gates. As they raised their wands to apparate Hermione stopped. Suddenly she didn't feel too up to apparating. 

"Severus, may I just hold on to you as we go? I don't quite feel like apparating myself."

Snape looked at her strangely but agreed and within seconds they had arrived at a bustling Burrow. A quick scan of the yard revealed utter chaos. It seemed like sea of redheads were all running around in some way, shape, or form. Hermione spotted the twins who waved at her and headed over. Hermione giggled at their appearances. Both of them wore outfits that did not suit them at all. Hermione would bet a load of galleons that their wives had dressed each of them.

"Oiy Herm! You showed up just in time!"

"Most definitely. Mum is on a smashing rampage!"

"We must have scrubbed the house from top to bottom at least twice…"

"…a day this last week."

"In fact, we were just on our way to set up the tables for the reception. Care to join us?"

Both twins grinned charmingly but Hermione wasn't fooled. She wasn't about to be wrangled into Mrs. Weasley's cleaning spree. In fact, she resolved to keep away from the Weasley matriarch until the wedding was over.

"No thanks Fred, George. I really must be finding Ron. I'm pretty sure he is sweating bullets by now."

"Oh he's in Mum and Dad's room getting ready. Harry is already with him. You're quite right about him being nervous. He was so fidgety that when Mum tried a hair smoothing charm on him she nearly took his head off. Dad made her leave after that. All for the best of course, she was actually almost yelling at Ron."

George smirked obviously at the memory of Ron's head nearly being taken off while Fred, noticing Snape behind Hermione looking around, leaned in to talk to her conspiratorially. 

"I noticed you came with Snape. I also noticed the eyes. I heard about them a few weeks ago. Well done Herm. Of course, I'm still wondering why you brought him to the wedding. Ron is 'this close'…" he pinched his fingers together, "to having an anxious aneurysm."

"He'll be fine, I'm keeping an eye on him. He's here on Dumbledore's orders, to represent Hogwarts. He's not that bad. He's just nervous, that's all."

Fred looked over her shoulder and snorted in disbelief. "Nervous or murderous?"

"That wasn't funny Fred."

Fred did a double take and gave Hermione an apologetic hug, followed by a gaping George, who had obviously just spotted Snape.

"Right-o then, better be off. If you want to see Ron he's in Mum and Dad's room. Best be off now, before the ceremony starts."

Hermione turned to Snape who was thoroughly examining his shoes.

"Severus!"

He didn't hear her, or if he did he pretended not to notice.

"Professor!"

With a jerk Snape's head snapped up.

"You'd think that now that you have eyes, you would look at something other than your feet." Snape frowned as she went on. "Find someone to talk to, all right? I'm going to see Ron and Harry. Unless you want to come of course?"

Snape raised both of his eyebrows as if this was a tantalizing suggestion but quickly answered in the negative and walked away. Hermione watched until Mr. Weasley, who seemed to be happily embracing everyone in sight, accosted him and dragged him away to a group of Ministry officials who all looked a bit wary by his presence but nevertheless shook his hand. Knowing Snape was in good presence, Hermione turned away and headed towards the house, her thoughts still on him. 

Ever since the night he had regained his sight and they had kissed she had been plagued by a hidden sadness. The day afterwards they had been friendly with each other, but neither had mentioned what had happened. Hermione was nervous, nervous that he would be angry and turn her away, but he wasn't. Quite the contrary in fact, he was as friendly as he had ever been with her (and that was saying something) and she didn't feel uncomfortable around him in the slightest. Hermione had quite convinced herself that Snape had been caught in the emotions of that night, that he hadn't felt any loving feelings towards her but was merely trying to comfort her in her moment of hallucinate release. Unfortunately for Hermione, a flame was ignited that night, one that she had to put out every day. She worried too much for Snape to push herself on him, and if there was one thing she wasn't pushy about it was a thing of this nature. She knew it was for the best…

"But," she thought to herself, opening the door to face a beaming Harry and slightly green Ron, "it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

Hermione turned her face to the dance floor where a slightly drunken Harry was dancing with a giggling Ginny, who giggled even more when Harry kissed her cheek. Both of the twins were waltzing with each other's wives and a pink-shirted Percy, who had toned himself down a bit (but not too much) since Voldemort's defeat, was slow dancing with his long-time girlfriend Penelope and nuzzling her hair. Earlier Percy had given a surprisingly touching best man speech, leading to Ron's actually crying, and the twins pulling all of the Weasley brothers including Harry into a large bear hug. Percy was so happy with how his speech had gone, that he had hardly gotten huffy at all when the twins had accidentally spilled the contents of the punch bowl on him, resulting in his pink shirt, which clashed horribly with his hair. 

At the moment she was sitting next to a mushy Molly Weasley, who was still blowing her nose and occasionally wiping her eyes. She had long since talked herself out, presumably during her cleaning spree, and now she was content to watch Ron dance with his new bride, sniffling and looking with wet eyes at Mr. Weasley, who patted her back and held her hand. Hermione could feel love vibes all around her, but she just wasn't having as good a time as she hoped she would have today. Sure, the ceremony had been beautiful, and the reception was fun. The food was great and the dancing was fantastic, but Hermione's growing awareness of being alone overshadowed all of this. Seeing all the couples in each other's arms just made her want to go home and curl up with a huge block of chocolate, not to mention that her exhaustion was coming back to her in waves with the excitement of the party winding down. Hermione was having trouble keeping her eyes open. In fact, she decided, it was time to go home. 

She forced her eyes to look around for Snape, when suddenly he was in front of her, taking her hand. 

"Severus, I think it's time…"

Snape placed his finger to his lips, signaling her to be silent, and led her out onto the dance floor.

The feeling of his warm, strong hand on the small of her back was comforting, and even thrilling. She let herself be guided around on the dewy grass, the rocking movement lulling her, making her feel fuzzy, but still slightly dizzy.

"I wonder what everyone thinks of us dancing." she murmured.

"Probably too drunk to notice." Snape muttered disapprovingly.

Hermione didn't reply, just continued to sway with the music, barely on the edge of consciousness. 

"Hermione," Snape began, his voice soft and silky, yet direct with purpose, "I'm not going to mince words. That night wasn't a mistake. It happened for a reason…"

By now Hermione was so weak, all she could do was hear Snape and her own thoughts screaming inside her head to get out. Yet the only words she could mange to say were "Severus, I need…" before she collapsed to the ground.

Snape bust inside the Hogwarts doors, and reached a panting McGonagall mid-hallway. 

"You have her belongings?"

"Yes, everything I think she'd need I've packed."

"Clothes?"

"Yes!"

"Books?"

"Of course not! I was thinking of immediate needs."

"Minerva, do you know Miss Granger in the slightest? How long do you possibly think she could survive without a book? Who knows how long she will have to stay at St. Mungos!" Snape rushed down the hallway to Hermione's quarters muttering bitterly about saving time.

Entering Hermione's rooms Snape headed to Hermione's desk to find any books she might be reading at the moment. Plunging a stack of three books into the small portable trunk, he saw a small, worn notebook fall to the ground. He started to place it back onto the desk when he was struck with the thought that this notebook might be Hermione's diary. Pushing aside thoughts of prying into her personal business, and replacing them with thoughts of bringing what was possibly her diary to her so she could write in it during her hospital stay, he flipped open the book. Instead of seeing the expected dates and personal scrawling her saw numbers and complex formulas painstakingly written, scratched out, and rewritten again. He flipped the pages until her reached one with a list of what looked like potion's ingredients. At the top it was labeled "Severus' Recompense." 

Snape smiled slightly as he read the list of ingredients. The mixture was extremely complex, and he couldn't help but feel a slight pride. As he reached the end of the list though, his smile disappeared suddenly, and was replaced with a frown. Quickly re-reading the list, he slammed the book shut and ran out of the door and back towards the Great Hall, where he met Dumbledore.

Grasping the books so tightly his fingers were white, Snape thrust the book in front of Dumbledore's face.

"I can't believe you let her take it! Now look what has happened!"

"Take what Severus?" Dumbledore enquired, but Snape was sure he already knew.

"Her Source, damn it!" Snape spat, and then turning quickly, ran towards the exit. 

"Severus!" Dumbledore called out, "Think about what you are doing!" but by that time Snape was already gone.

He had been stewing inside of himself all night. Part of him had been with her as she had been on the dance floor, laughing with all her friends and talking with Harry and Ron and the rest of the Weasley crew. In truth, the evening hadn't been a disaster, and Snape was almost glad he had gone. Arthur Weasley's friends actually listened when he spoke, and took his opinions seriously. Ministry officials didn't look for him when he defeated the Dark Lord, but they definitely weren't going to ignore him when he was in their midst. When the ministry people left, and all that remained of the party was family, close friends, and Snape, all he had left to do was pick at his chicken bones and watch Hermione from a distance. The more he had watched her, the surer he was about what he wanted to do. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry about what had happened, that he would be sure to control himself. He had gone over to her, and stupidly ignored the fact that she protested. 

His previous plans at closure had melted away when she was in his arms again. He had opened his mouth, and had realized he wasn't sorry. He had almost said everything, but then she had collapsed. 

After Snape had successfully gotten the entire attendance's attention, Mr. Wealsey magicked Hermione to St. Mungos, accompanied by Harry, and Snape had the presence of mind to go to Hogwarts for Hermione's essential belongings. His worry at her condition was unparalleled, but as usual, he didn't acknowledge it, he just snarled at Dumbledore and Minerva. 

Unfortunately for Hermione, what Snape was feeling now was far from compassion. After scaring the witch at the hospital desk into telling him Hermione's patient number, Snape ran down the hallway and burst into the stark white hospital room where Hermione was lying, sleeping on the bed. As he slammed the door, her eyes opened, slowly at first, and then flying open when she saw the look on Snape's face. By the time she was awake enough to talk, Snape had torn across the room and thrown Hermione's notebook into her lap.

"You stupid girl! Do you have any idea what you've done to yourself?"

"Severus, I!…" Hermione stuttered and tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "Yes, I know."

"I don't think you do! How could you ever give me, give anyone, a part of your soul like that?" By now Snape was positively enraged, yelling loudly, his cheeks tinged pink with anger. "No one should have your Source but you! But right about now I'm wondering if your intelligence is worthy of it, doing something so idiotic as you've done!"

Hermione closed her eyes and covered her ears with her hands, obviously in pain. Snape stood up and grabbed her shoulders, shaking Hermione so that her long hair flew everywhere.

"Listen to what I'm saying!"

With a final hard shake Hermione's frame slumped down from the sitting position to once again lay on the soft hospital mattress. Both her and Snape were silent, but for Snape's deep, panting breaths. With a final glance at Hermione's prone frame Snape walked out of the room.

Hermione heard the door slam and felt an alien silence descend on her room. She could hear her heart, and the once staccato beat inside her chest slowed to normal, and kept slowing. In fascination she listened to her own heart's labored pumps, as it began to stop. The call button next to her bed was left untouched. This didn't hurt anymore, and she didn't care. All she knew, was that there was nothing left to feel. Her heart finally stopped and she sat in silence for a few seconds, not breathing, just listening to death, when she heard the click of the door.

Her skin felt like it was made of sand, and she went limp as strong, wiry, arms gathered her into a sitting position. As she opened her eyes she saw Snape, and with a jolt of cold blood, her heart began to beat as if it had never stopped. She raised her hand to touch his heated neck, and then to his cheek, where his hand met her own.

Snape squeezed Hermione's hand with a constant pressure, but when he spoke his words were spoken slower than usual, as if it was taking a great effort.

"No one has ever given me something like this."

Hermione didn't know what to say. 


	6. Chapter Six

**__**

"Mommy, I fear I'll never be properly gothic."

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Author's Note: Life is short. When you wake up in the morning, choose to make the best of it. You know how you are always thinking "what if…" and wondering what would happen if you had done this or that when you were younger, when you were freer, when you were foolish? Well only in ten years will you be able to realize how foolish you are now. Take chances, love, live, do everything. Wear black if you damn well want to, scream, make faces, act im/mature, sexy (not slutty), and have self-esteem. Impress your teachers and your parents. The more leverage with them, the more leverage on your catapult out of where you don't want to be. 

This isn't cheesy, ok, maybe it is a bit cheesy, but bear with me. We all have our moments. We all need to get up off of our asses and do something for the world. You know your history book? Well, aim to be part of that in 100 years. But make sure it is for something good, not for blowing up another country, or sucking off the President… and remember to recycle! Short chapter this time. Short but VERY significant. Enjoy

When Molly Weasley returned to Hermione's hospital room to check up on her one last time before returning home for the night she stopped just outside the door, her eyes resting on a sight the likes of which she never thought she would see. 

Hermione was not alone. Severus Snape had arrived presumably to bring her belongings, which now lay forgotten and scattered around an open trunk, which very much looked as if it had been thrown on the floor. Professor Snape was asleep, his torso draped over Hermione's, his head on her chest. Hermione was laying down, not noticing Molly at first, eyes barely open in a vacant stare, her fingers gently caressing the Professor's neck and shoulders, and sliding gently through his raven-black hair. When Hermione glanced up and saw Molly, she almost rose, but Molly gave her a knowing smile and she settled again, smiling back softly, the dark circles under her eyes momentarily vanishing in the warmth of Molly's presence and understanding. 

Quietly Molly picked up Hermione's belongings and replaced them neatly into her trunk, before slowly gliding out the door and down the hall, back to the Burrow.

When Snape awoke the next morning it was to see the face of Hermione staring back at him. He wondered in the foggy moments of waking dream if that's all she was, a dream, until he felt her breath on his face. He noticed he was laying down, how, he couldn't remember. Hermione seemed to notice this. 

"The nurse put you on the other bed."

Indeed, Snape was lying on his own bed, which was moved parallel to Hermione's. Sitting up, he rubbed his forehead with his hands, and smoothed his tousled hair. How had he slept through that? 

Hermione had already sat up and was already starting to get fidgety Snape could see. She seemed to be rummaging around, looking for her wand. 

Snape frowned and stood, snatching the wand from the bedside table before she could take it.

"They took it away from you yesterday. You are too weak to do any kind of magic."

"I just need to summon a book. It isn't that big of a deal…" Hermione brushed off Snape's reprimand, complete with deadly tone, and reached towards Snape and the wand, only to be stopped by Snape's cold grip on her wrist.

" I suggest you don't try Hermione. There is no need for you to add to your list of asinine…" 

At this point Snape was interrupted by a nurse, whom he recognized as the one at the front desk the night before, bustling in with a breakfast tray for Hermione. One look at Snape's angry face, and she dropped the tray on a nearby table with a squeak and hurried off. Snape was grateful, he had almost said something he knew he would regret later. Obviously Hermione agreed, and she hastily changed the subject. 

"What did you do to her?"

Snape smirked and Hermione had a good idea. 

"She's a new nurse you know."

Snape smirked grew even wider.

"Well then, she'll have to learn to deal with people like me won't she?"

Hermione was quiet for a moment.

"There aren't many people like you Severus."

In that perfect moment, Snape had just begun to lean forward, could practically taste her lips on his own when, with perfect timing as always, the door burst open. Harry Potter walked in immediately after giving Snape a quick glance. His hair was more messy than usual, and he looked severely hung over. Not surprising, if his behavior last night was any evidence to how much he had been drinking.

"Hermione! I'm so sorry I didn't stay with you last night, it's just that I was in no state to be roaming around a hospital. Mrs. Weasley convinced me of that."

He grabbed Hermione's hand, and smoothed her bushy halo of hair. 

"Ron left this morning with Julie. He couldn't decide whether or not to come. He wanted to come…

Hermione smiled.

"Harry, do you really think I would let Ron hear the end of it if he delayed his honeymoon for me?" 

Harry nodded meekly and Hermione giggled. 

__

Well I'm finished then… Snape thought bitterly to himself as Harry touched Hermione's hair once again.

Snape stood and pulled on his cloak.

Hermione looked up.

"Severus, stay and have something to eat."

__

Stay… and have to watch you and your best friend flirt like sixth years. No.

"No. I'm leaving. Mr. Potter," he nodded, "Hermione."

Hermione scowled as she watched Snape exit the room.

Harry whistled.

"Wow, someone's in a hurry," Harry joked, but when he saw the look on Hermione's face he hastily scrambled to revive the situation.

"I was thinking last night Hermione."

Hermione reverted her attention back to Harry enough to answer.

"I thought you were too drunk to do anything but stumble gracelessly on the dance floor, but do go on."

She laughed but was quickly quieted when she noticed that Harry's demeanor had suddenly grown serious. Suddenly she became aware of his hand around hers, warm and sweaty, but gripping her own firmly. Nervous, but he still sure.

__

Oh shit.

"Hermione, last night I realized how much I care about you and Ron, but especially you.. I feel like I could've lost you forever. You could've died last night."

"I didn't die Harry." 

__

But I almost did. Hermione shivered as Harry's eyes pierced her own.

"But you could have… Hermione, I can't lose you now. There is so much I haven't told you, so many things I haven't done with you yet."

__

Backtrack…backtrack!!! "Harry, that movie you wanted to see just came out! We still have plenty of time to go to it."

"No." Harry almost choked, his voice was so thick with emotion, almost reverent. "Hermione, you don't understand. I was in so much panic. I was so afraid. Afraid that I would have to go to the movie theater with Ron."

It took a few moments for Hermione to register what Harry had said. Meanwhile, Harry erupted into boyish peals of laughter, doubling over and gasping for air. All Hermione could do was stare. Finally she spoke.

"You've been spending too much time with Fred and George you stupid git. I'm too weak for this kind of teasing. You had better go home."

"Oh Hermione, you totally feel for it. I mean, I love you and everything, but God help you if something happens and it forces me to do ANYTHING like going to see a muggle movie with Ron."

"Yeah, yeah, very funny." Hermione frowned playfully. "You're just lucky that they've taken away my wand. Now get out of my room. I need bed rest. I've read somewhere that the body heals fastest during sleep and that…"

"Whoa now Mione! I'm leaving. No need to go all book-smart on me."

With a quick kiss on the cheek, Harry conjured a vase of flowers for Hermione's bedside table and left.

Hermione felt alone. But it wasn't the hollow sort of alone, where your throat tightens, and your jaw clenches, and every noise or ray of light is an intrusion on your solitude. Feeling the breeze from the open window she noticed that her toes were cold. She raised herself to a sitting position, and pulled her legs close wrapping them around each other, and letting her feet be warmed by her thighs. 

Placing her hands in her lap she sighed and studied them. 

__

These hands. My hands.

They had done so much. 

__

Write, turn pages, comb hair, pick flowers,cast spells… to hurt…

To heal…

To caress…

To embrace…

It's nice how when you relax your hand it curves inward, like your holding someone else's. And it could be the hand of whoever you want it to be.

For no apparent reason Hermione though of Dean, and her eyes filled with tears. She was still tired, _and_ _that's why I am so emotional._

But in her heart Hermione knew that this wasn't the truth. Her life felt unsure, and without direction when she was alone. And as much as she tried to deny it, without her Source, she was weak. She only felt stronger, and more in control when Severus was around.

__

But it's so dangerous when he is here with me. I almost died when he left me last night. My heart broke in my chest.

Shattered seemed like a more appropriate word.

__

I literally can't live without him, because I **love** him.

Hermione's veins pulsed with passion and her cheeks flushed just thinking the word. But at the same time she felt the deepest darkest fear inside her heart, long dead, take root once again.

__

Severus could kill me.

This was such an enormous risk that Hermione had taken, falling in love. But hadn't she always been in love?

She balled up her fists and drew blood from her palms.

Severus couldn't fall out of love with her, or she would die.

__

How disgustingly ironic that in freeing him from one prison of darkness, I've imprisoned him in another. A prison of love, but a prison no less.

Hermione knew that no matter if he loved her or not, Hermione's death at Severus' own hand would no doubt set him once again upon an icy, barren path of self destruction.

Too full to exist, Hermione collapsed back onto her bed. 

__

Dean, I wish you were here. I need you to be here.

And suddenly, he was there. In the dented, sleep-rumpled pillow that Hermione huddled up against. Hermione would have sworn to anyone, as she drifted off to sleep, that Dean was there, holding her empty hand.

Snape was tired, very tired. It had taken a lot of willpower and energy to go to Dumbledore and Minerva to apologize. And it had taken a lot of hard alcohol to forget that he'd done it.

He stripped off his dress robes and collapsed into bed without redressing. It wasn't a warm night, but the numbing liquor took care of that. 

__

Shit, I have work tomorrow. Oh well, Hermione will have to get Potter to bring her to Hogwarts. Not that I mind or anything. I think Potter will though, when he has to watch me snog her senseless when she arrives.

Making a suggestive growling noise, Snape pulled the sheets up over his body, smirking.

__

I'm very tired… good thing I don't have night duty tonight. Wow, look at the candle!

So Snape looked at the candle flame burning brilliantly, so distracted, so intoxicated, so tired… that he didn't even notice when his vision began to grow dark.

And he wasn't closing his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

****

Author's Note_: _Wow. If you ever re-read your fanfics and almost gag, you'll know how I felt after recently re-reading my own story. Can you say fluff? Honestly, I love all the reviews and such, but I NEED honestly. You guys are too smart not to recognize crap when you see it. If I ever cross the boundary of Snape saying the word "dabble" again, please strangle me soundly, and then take this keyboard away from me before I do anymore damage. As it is, I'm decimating the update code of honor and slouching around wondering when I'll ever have a good enough thread to follow, so I can drag this story out of the puddle of gooey marshmallow mess that it has wallowed in for far too long. ARGH! Thank you.

__

I can feel you near me, even when you're far away.

Severus Snape awoke to the clamor of someone practically beating down his door. Groggily he awoke, threw on his robe from the day before, conveniently draped over the post of his bed. He stumbled to the door and, leaning on the frame, opened it a crack. Outside was Harry Potter.

__

Great.

Harry was panting and when he spoke it was quick, loud, and strained. "Damn Professor! I've been banging on your door for five minutes. Do you have any concept of urgency?"

Snape ran his hand through his tousled hair and groaned. Every damn word Potter said echoed in his head, and if hearing him talk normally was one thing, hearing one million screaming repetitions of his voice was quite another. Not to mention his eyes felt heavy inside his head, and it was all he could do to prevent the burning pain behind them from showing on his face.

"What is the bloody time?" Snape asked, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Five in the morning, but Snape, you need to listen to…!"

"Spare me the hysterics Potter, and just tell me what I need to know so urgently."

"It's Hermione. We brought her to the hospital wing earlier this morning. Madame Pomfrey insisted, you know how she is…is…is…" Harry continued to pant and stutter.

Snape's patience had plummeted the moment Hermione's name had been mentioned and, quickly at the end of his tether, Snape grabbed Harry's collar. 

"Spit it out! What's wrong with her?"

Harry's face grew stony, and his breathing became even shallower. "She won't stop shaking, and Madame Pomfrey says you can help her."

Before the sentence was finished Snape was running down the hall and up the stairs towards the hospital wing. His bare feet scraped on the stone floor. He could hear Harry running behind him at first, but he slowly pulled ahead. Finally he reached the hospital wing, and when he did Harry was nowhere to be seen. He had fallen far behind long before. When Snape entered the room Poppy and Albus were on either side of Hermione. Madame Pomfrey's brow was etched with worry and loose tendrils of her hair were wet with sweat and stuck to her face. Dumbledore was holding onto Hermione's arm with a sort of power that Snape believed him to have lost long ago, and he was calm. Hermione, on the other hand, was on the bed, seizing erratically. Arms pressed forcefully on either side, her torso was flailing up, down, and her legs kicked out stiffly and violently. Snape looked first from Hermione, and then to Pomfrey, waiting for directions. 

"Nothing I've tried has worked. Charms, potions, nothing!"

Snape roughly grabbed Hermione from the bed and made his way towards the door. He needed to get her to the dungeons as quickly as possible. That was the only way he could help her. Nothing he gave Madame Pomfrey was of high enough caliber to deal with Hermione's sickness.

"Why did you take her from the hospital wing? She is obviously still not well."

Madame Pomfrey's eyes turned to steel. "I'm sure that Hermione prefers my care to the care of some faceless hospital nurse."

Snape spun around and Hermione continued to shake. 

Hermione wasn't just convulsing on the outside. Her very soul was like a tumultuous ocean against the unshakable island that was her physical being. She knew she was growing stronger, and she knew that that was the last thing she wanted to do. From the moment she had come back to the castle she had felt her body tugging on Severus', her, Source. He wouldn't let go, and it had resulted in a tempestuous war between two great armies, that of Severus' conscious need to see, and that of Hermione's body, which was unwilling to let a perfectly good Source of strength and healing to remain in a stranger. She had unwittingly tried to steal the Source away, like a thief in the night, while Severus was sleeping. But Snape was used to underhanded moves, and had experience in actually being a thief in the night. His unconscious brutally ripped the Source back, and with it so much more. It was pain, beyond any torture Hermione had ever experienced, and she couldn't take it anymore. She started to lose her grip, and then she lost control completely. She was full of raw need now, an animal instinct for survival. She clawed back.

"Poppy, while it may be true that Hermione considers you a worthwhile acquaintance in times of flu, colds, or petrification, and may even consider you a friend, that is all that you are. Even I cannot deny that you are decent as a nurse, but you cannot compare with St. Mungo's trained professionals. I can't believe that you would… endanger a patient, a friend, to satisfy your own hunger for a challenge and professionalism. You think that only you can do what you do, and that only you are the best? Stop kidding yourself woman…!"

By now Snape was positively yelling and Harry had reached the hospital ward. He stood in the doorway, staring at the scene before him. Dumbledore had had enough.

"Severus!" he whispered. "What are you saying?"

Madame Pomfrey, who had been silent through the majority of Snape's rant, leaning against the wall, cried out in obvious pain. She slid down the wall and curled up into a ball, her face contorted in anguish. 

Harry rushed to her side and cradled her head in his arms before she could hit the ground. Snape watched as both Harry, and Dumbledore stared at him. Snape's breathing was loud in his own head, and he was jolted back to the task at hand as a groan issued from Hermione's pale lips. He turned and ran. 

Once again someone was following him, this time it was Dumbledore. 

__

Why didn't I just levitate her? I'm running so slowly.

But even as Snape thought these thoughts to himself he was slowing down and his head was aching, throbbing, and then searing with pain. Suddenly a jolt of energy flew from Snape's body where him and Hermione touched, and his vision went black. Hermione went completely limp as Snape let out a yell of fear. He fell to his knees and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

It was dark. It was so dark…

With one final wrench, Hermione was free. She heard a yell. She felt so revived, but Snape was falling back. Losing his vision.

__

Oh God. God No! Severus, take it back! I'm so sorry! Fight me again Severus. Don't let it go!

He heard Hermione whispering from some distant place. 

__

Hold on to it Severus, don't let me take it back. Please… please. 

And then, much louder, much closer, Albus.

"Minerva, come here! Bring her back to the hospital wing. She will need to lie back down. I have Severus."

The clapping of Minerva's high-heeled shoes echoed in the stone hallway as she whisked Hermione away in the opposite direction from the dungeons, back towards the hospital wing. 

"Severus, can you hear me?"

Snape made no effort to speak. All he could focus on was the little beam of light in the center of his now very bleak vision. 

Hermione shivered slightly at the feeling that came from being levitated. 

"Minerva, please put me down. We need to go back."

McGonagall grimaced. "You sure seem to be recovering quickly." She slowly lowered Hermione to the ground. 

Hermione wobbled on her feet. "Not that quickly. Help me back to Severus." 

Minerva grabbed Hermione's arm and together, they made their way back to Snape's dark form on the stone floor. Dumbledore gently prodded Snape with his wand, muttering softly under his breath, and shaking his head. 

"He's gone…" Dumbledore whispered. "I don't understand."

McGonagall stood like a statue, hand to her mouth. 

"He isn't gone yet! Help me Professor." Hermione and Dumbledore pulled Snape into a sitting position. Hermione gasped at how she felt.

__

He barely weighs anything. I feel perfectly fine. I feel amazing.

But Hermione knew that the better she felt, the more invincible, the more Snape was losing the battle. She needed to return her Source, but at the same time she knew it would be difficult. She wanted to, but she didn't know if she could let herself let go of something so soundly imbedded into her deepest self. She would have to try.

Placing her hands over his heart, because it seemed like the best place, Hermione concentrated on giving herself up. She didn't know exactly how to go about it. Obviously it was easier for her to take then to give. The very thought made her feel sick to her stomach. She continued to struggle. A tear ran down her cheek and her jaw began to shake with the exertion of it all. 

__

How will I stop him from taking everything back like he did before?

She found that she didn't care.

Snape was coming back, crawling back from the edges of consciousness. He had a distinct feeling that a large well of force and stability was just within his grasp. But somehow he knew not to take it. It felt so right to touch it, to gently tickle it with the tips of possibility, but he shuddered when it quickly backed away from him, leaving small pools for him to swallow up, enough for him to open his eyes…

… and see again.

Hermione was there, her eyes shut tightly, sweat trickling down the sides of her face. She started when Snape pushed his hand off of his chest. It was hard for him when she was so close, hard for him to take more of her. He knew that was what was happening. He was taking more of her away. 

Neither Snape nor Hermione spoke as, Minerva and Dumbledore, respectively, led them to their rooms. 

Snape could feel Minerva shivering as she touched him and he stiffened slightly. She removed her hand from his arm, and they continued towards Snape's quarters. When they reached his rooms, Minerva finally spoke.

"We'll obviously be finding someone to teach your classes. You'll need to rest. I expect you to get straight into bed." She shot a wispy bolt of what looked like smoke from her wand, towards the fireplace, and within moments, house elves were scurrying about Snape's bed, changing the sheets, and filling a pitcher of water by his bedside. Within another minute they were gone.

Snape didn't protest. He merely looked straight into McGonagall's eyes. He willed her to leave.

"You couldn't have done anything for me Minerva. Even I don't understand what happened."

McGonagall nodded, and then left the room, closing the door so softly behind her, that Snape did not even hear it click. 

He expected to be awake for a while, adrenaline was literally coursing through his veins, but he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

Dumbledore sat on a chair next to Hermione's bed. Hermione was curled into a fetal position under her sheets, recounting her experiences of that morning to Dumbledore as he nodded gravely beside her. 

"I was trying to take back my Source. But it wasn't on purpose. I wanted so badly to stop myself from stealing it back, but it was like it wasn't my decision. When I finally got it back, it became so much harder to keep it, because he started fighting. And then he wrenched it back, so viciously, I just couldn't take it. I started to…"

"That's when you started to convulse." Albus smoothed Hermione's hair. "Hermione my dear girl, let me tell you one thing first. I believe it is the most important, or I would have said this last, so you must understand…"

Hermione nodded and managed a half smile. Even in the most serious of times, Dumbledore remained his sweet self. She couldn't help but smile as best she could.

"You didn't steal your Source back from Severus. You took back what your body rightly considered it's own. Such is the dilemma of giving a Source to another living person. As you may have noticed, your Source has a will of it's own. It knows where it belongs. 

Hermione didn't understand. "It belongs with Severus!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No my dear. Your Source belongs with you. Now, as the best student Hogwarts has ever seen, I know you did your research before you used your Source the main ingredient in Severus' cure. In fact, I am sure of it, because we have discussed this before. As you are aware, no person who has ever transferred their Source to another person has been successful in their endeavors for longer then a week. You have been successful for almost two months. I don't know how it is possible. Do you happen to know?"

Hermione shook her head. "No sir."

Dumbledore sighed. "I didn't think you would. It was worth a try though wasn't it? Well then, I have a theory. I believe that through your keeping Severus from knowing of the Source transfer, you have protected him from being aware that anything was different, not with his sight, but in his soul. You have given him no reason to be protective. But now he knows Hermione, and Severus is an intelligent man. He knows what has happened in past experiments of this nature. He fears that his sight will be taken away, and so now he is clinging to your Source as much as he can."

"He thinks I will take it from him! He expects me to take it back?"

"He knows" Dumbledore interrupted, "that you will have no other choice. You cannot let yourself stay without a Source Hermione."

"I can," Hermione gasped, "I will!"

"No, Miss Granger, you physically cannot. You cannot stop yourself from breathing any more then you can stop your Source from striving to return to your body. It is impossible. Unless…"

He paused and Hermione finished his sentence before he could change the conversation's direction.

"Unless I die." Hermione turned to back to Dumbledore and fingered the velvet curtain now in front of her face. A pure white bobcat removed itself from within the shadowed depths of the forest. She ran her finger along it's spine. It paused for a moment, and then leapt into a tree and straddled a branch lazily, staring at her. It was making her tired.

"So you do understand. I knew you would understand, in the academic sense of the word."

"I don't understand in the way I want to…" Hermione whispered, drifting away into a dreamless sleep, thanks to the potion she had drank earlier.

"Not many people can or do, Hermione. It isn't expected." Dumbledore whispered back. "Hermione?"

When she didn't respond, he closed the curtain. It was definitely time for a trip to the pensieve. 

When Snape awoke he was face to face with Madame Pomfrey. She had dark circles and running mascara under her eyes and was without her nurse's hat. She hadn't bothered to pull up a chair. Instead she was sitting on the floor, next to Severus' bed, staring him straight in the eyes. Snape's breath caught in his throat as he though of what he had said earlier. He didn't want to deal with Poppy. He just wanted to go back to sleep and forget that this ever happened. He closed his eyes.

"Open your eyes Severus Snape, and look at me. I have a few things to say to you."

Snape groaned, but opened his eyes nevertheless. He wouldn't let it show on his face, but he wasn't exactly feeling secure with his earlier behavior right now, and he was never one to question himself on matters of less then extreme importance. 

"First of all, you are an ungrateful, selfish bastard. I don't care how many times you save the Wizarding World from another "He Who Must Not Be Named". I remember when you used to come home from your terrible Death Eater meetings. I don't know how many broken bones, cuts, and scrapes I repaired on you. Not to mention when your eyes were torn out by that demon. You were ungrateful even then. Did you feel that way every time you made potions for me to use, or sent one of your students up to me to be healed in one of your damned potion's class accidents? What about when you went insane, and I'm not talking about today!" She sniffed, and then continued, "I'm talking about when you were truly insane. You were in your little padded room. I let you stay. I could have sent you to Saint Mungo's. Is that what you wanted. To be imprisoned in the mental illness ward. I let Miss Granger see you!"

She had struck a nerve. Snape's wide eyes winced.

"That was a mistake."

Madame Pomfrey sniffed again. "I beg to differ. I think it was one of the best decisions that I have ever made." Snape covered his face, and Madame Pomfrey continued. "Besides, Hermione never would have let you go to St. Mungo's anyway. She… cares for you so."

"Miss Granger was in no position to make decisions for her own good. I could have hurt her badly."

"Imagine how you'd hurt her if she knew that you thought her incapable of making decisions about personal safety. She helped you didn't she, with your Arithmacy predictions. She wrote down the Runes for you. That was a large enough decision to be made involving personal safety if you were to ask me. Look what happened to you! She experienced _YOU_ first-hand, hell, you kissed her in one of your mad fits. I know that you remember."

Snape grimaced. When Hermione had asked about the kiss he had pretended like he had forgotten about it, to spare her the embarrassment. But he still remembered it, and still had nightmares about how close he had come to completely losing control, how he had completely lost control. 

"Don't pretend like things would have turned out the same without her Severus."

Snape could no longer look Poppy in the eye. His guilt was too great, his realization to deep for anything but staring at nice, calming, dark maroon sheets.

"Number two…" Madame Pomfrey continued after a pause, "How are you feeling?"

She grabbed Snape's chin and made him look at her. He gave her a cold stare as she checked his eyes, his pulse, and his reflexes. He stared at her as she tutted incessantly, knowing that he had seen a side to Madame Pomfrey that probably only Dumbledore had seen. That is why he trusts her with the care of his students. Madame Pomfrey is intelligent, observant, professional, and above all honest. He had been wrong. If any nurse deserved the head spot at St. Mungo's it would definitely be Poppy. If only she would stop her incessant tutting.

"Hermione is doing well." Poppy continued after another brief pause. "She recently woke up from her dreamless sleep. I believe that she was planning on dining in the Great Hall tonight with the students. Do you feel well enough to join her?"

Snape considered for a moment, and then nodded. 

"Good," Madame Pomfrey rose and primly replaced her slightly wrinkled nurse's hat upon her head. May I use your bathroom please. I'd rather be presentable when I return to the hospital ward. She pointed at her face, and further smeared her already abysmal mascara. 

"What have you been doing all day?" Snape asked, feeling the need to make conversation while Poppy was in his bathroom. 

"I've taken the morning off, and the beginning of the afternoon." Snape heard shuffling inside and wondered what she was doing. "I'm actually quite nervous, and ready to return to work. I've left a 7th year mediwitch in training in charge, and I quite fear she may have destroyed the entire ward by now." Finally she exited the bathroom, after Snape heard the mirror compliment loudly on her prim appearance. 

"Your bathroom is a mess. When was the last time you cleaned it?"

Snape smirked. "Not since I've gotten my eyes."

"Well," Madame Pomfrey scolded, "that's nice… but its about time you do a good thorough cleaning on it."

"Thanks." Snape responded, just before she closed the door. "Not just for the bathroom advice."

Poppy paused for a moment in the doorway, before shutting the door.

Hermione continued to get dressed to go to dinner. He had chosen comfortable clothes, which were also incidentally, the easiest to put on. Which was good, because her fingers were shaking.

She didn't know how she would control her Source. Another seizing fiasco in front of the whole student body would not be appropriate. She wondered in Snape would come, and if he did, if it would be worse. She was afraid. She needed to g somewhere before dinner. Somewhere to relax and think before she had a nervous breakdown. 

The Potion's Garden.


End file.
